


Catch My Shadow

by JennMel



Category: Glee
Genre: AU family for Blaine, Alternate senior year, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Cooper doesn't exist, Grief/Mourning, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kurt and Blaine are the Same Age, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Supportive Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:14:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 64,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennMel/pseuds/JennMel
Summary: Blaine's father wasn't perfect, but he was still Blaine's dad. The last few years had been tough, and often they didn't really get one another, but somehow they had found a rhythm and were making it work. He even liked Kurt. But then there was the phone call. Then Blaine's life and future was torn away from him.Now his dad is gone. Blaine's living with relatives who might as well be strangers. He's been forced to leave Dalton and enrol at McKinley. Not quite the senior year Kurt or Blaine pictured.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm in the process of moving all my gleefic to my archive profile :) Updates should be daily/every two days. This fic is complete but I'll be doing a few edits as I go.
> 
> This fic was written in the height of glee fandom, in the mysterious days before we know Cooper existed, or that Blaine was younger than Kurt, so ages and characters reflect that. This kicks off post season 2.
> 
> And finally this fic centres on the death of a parent, how this death is processed by the teenage son, and how this grief also affects friends and loved ones of the bereaved. It's pretty up there with the angst, but also focuses heavily on support and recovery even if there are bumps along the way.

_One month, one week, four days, three hours, twenty one minutes, fifty four seconds._

_Remember that._

_It's important. It's important to know, important to count, important to be precise._

_Because numbers, measures, data – they are the only thing in life that will ever, ever make sense._

00000

Summer had been _incredible_. Or rather, it had been completely, entirely ordinary, but to start with, it hadn't been school, and way more importantly, it had been Kurt's first summer with his incredible, amazing, perfect boyfriend.

Yes. He was utterly head over heels in love.

Weeks and weeks of doing lots, and nothing at all. It had taken a week or two, but the New Directions kids had, grudgingly by many, finally forgiven Finn and Rachel. Bigger news, like Sam and Mercedes, for starters, was way more gossip worthy, and without the enclosed constraints of the high school corridors, things always seemed less intense.

Summer had given them all a lot of time to think, move forwards, and generally just have fun. It was their last summer before _senior year_. They had way more interesting things to do than bitch about Rachel – they could do that _any_ time of year!

Even more importantly for Kurt and Blaine, they had overcome yet another milestone of their relationship. No, they hadn’t had sex yet… Things were definitely heating up, but for now both were just happy to allow everything to develop as and when it felt natural. And what had felt natural, soon after they had both said the three most important words in any relationship, was for Blaine to finally take Kurt home to meet his father.

Kurt wouldn't lie – he had been worried. Blaine didn’t really talk about his dad too much. Sometimes, Kurt would catch him looking at Burt and Carole with a strange depth to his gaze, but it had always flitted away when Blaine realised Kurt was watching him.

Other times, he would make a strange comment, one that didn't quite sit right with Kurt, but when Kurt had asked him what he meant by it, Blaine would just quirk that stupidly adorable grin of his, and kiss his boyfriend. A diversionary tactic that always proved very successful.

Of course, Kurt knew that Blaine was out to his family, but when he really thought about it, that was _all_ he knew. He had learned a little, not long after they had gotten together, when out of the blue Blaine had asked him whether Kurt thought his mother would have been proud of him even though he was gay. Kurt had experienced a knee-jerk reaction at that, getting truly quite angry at Blaine for daring to question what his mother would have thought; he knew without a shadow of a doubt what she would have thought! Even his dad said that she had probably always known. But despite his bitchy reply, despite his tensed muscles as he prepared himself for a very diva storming-out-of-the-room, Blaine had just looked down at his hands, and replied that he didn't think _his_ mom would approve if she knew.

That response had successfully floored Kurt, and so followed one of the first layers of the mystery that was Blaine to be unwrapped. His mom had left when Blaine had been four years old. His dad had caught her in bed with another man, and had given her an ultimatum – either she ended it immediately, chose her family, and they moved state to get away from the mess and start afresh, or she left.

She left – her new man was richer. To stick the knife in further, he was a high powered lawyer at the firm where his dad had been head of accountancy. Blaine and his dad moved state anyway to Ohio, where his aunt already lived, and he had never heard from her since. She wasn't really a topic in their household, and neither father nor son dared to broach it, except the one time when Blaine had been nine and finally asked for the truth of why he didn't have a mom.

So, like Kurt and his father, it had always just been Blaine and _his_ father. But unlike Kurt, his mother didn't die. She had been a selfish woman who had left his father alone to bring up a son who he really didn't know how to handle sometimes. Kurt always knew how incredibly lucky he was to have a man like Burt, but equally, Blaine always knew that, while he sometimes envied Kurt's relationship with his father, that he was also very lucky to have his own dad.

 Blaine’s dad was a quiet, softly spoken man who, were his personality manifest, it would be very similar to Kurt's initial reaction to sex talk – which was to hum with his fingers in his ears. Blaine's dad was a man who hated all forms of confrontation, and was abysmal at connecting with people. It was part of the reason why Blaine hadn't truly resented his father for shoving him under a beat-up car for a summer as a reaction to his son coming out of the closet; he didn't do out and out conversations very well, and that had been one of his ways to try and come to terms with what Blaine was telling him.

The only time Blaine had ever seen his dad get angry was when the bullying finally got violent after the Sadie Hawkins dance. Blaine had been in Dalton as soon as he was fit enough to go back to school.

So, Kurt hadn't really known what to expect when he had driven over to Blaine's one warm evening in August for his first meet-the-parent dinner. It had been awkward in places, stilted in others, and involved breaks in conversation that stretched a little too long for comfort, but it had also been…fun?

 It had helped that when Blaine had kissed Kurt goodbye on his porch he had been grinning even more widely than he had been in their prom photo, putting more emotion into a simple 'thank you' than Kurt had thought possible. And it had been followed over the course of the summer by a couple more dinners, as well as fleeting meetings in the living room when Kurt had just been round Blaine’s house.

So, yes, excuse Kurt for saying that summer had indeed been incredible. But nothing lasts, and senior year was now upon them and _seriously_ when did that happen? It seemed like only days ago Kurt had been signing up for New Directions for the first time, and now, here he was, sitting in their last ever first meeting of glee club, at the beginning of senior year, before their final bid at Nationals.

Blaine was sitting next to him, not because he had switched schools – though they had both joked about how awesome that would be, there was no way Blaine would do that to his dad or his friends, and that was if Kurt would let him in the first place – but because Dalton had shorter terms than McKinley, and Kurt was his boyfriend who demanded he come along. Any protests of 'spying' had been quashed when Kurt had snippily pointed out that the Warblers hadn't been pooled against them for Sectionals this time around, and the glee kids had just spent the rest of rehearsals getting back into the groove of working with each other, with Blaine joining in just because he could.

And then, in the middle of Mr Schue giving them that week's assignment, it all ended. Blaine's phone had buzzed on a vibrate tone in his pocket, and he had looked at the caller id with a frown, before excusing himself out into the hall. Kurt had shrugged at a questioning look from Mercedes, but then just turned his attention back to their assignment – something to express what they felt about their coming final year of high school. Mr Schuester also wanted them to think up some ways of getting some new members in; grinning as he pointedly raised the idea to Rachel that she'd probably need a whole year to break in their successors for after they graduated.

Glee Club ended before Blaine came back, and as the others filtered out, Kurt pondered whether he should go and hunt down his boyfriend. Finn had already shouldered his bag and was saying something to Puck, who was coming round their house to play videogames. All four of them had planned on leaving together. Just as Finn was starting to fidget, Blaine came back in. Kurt narrowed his eyes – was it just his imagination, or did Blaine look slightly pale? His eyes didn't meet Kurt's, but were instead trained in a strangely fixated way on his bag as it remained sitting against a chair leg. His phone was still clenched in one hand, rigid at his side. "Hey man, thought you'd got lost." Puck grinned, "Let's go."

Kurt now _knew_ something wasn't right, as his boyfriend seemed to take way too long to even register that Puck had said something to him, let alone what those words had been, "Blaine?"

Blaine blinked oddly, and then seemed to shake himself before blurting out in a really strange run of words, "I have to go. I need to get started on schoolwork, and Wes has probably already started looking for a set list-"

Finn interrupted, "Dude, you don't even start school for another week!"

Blaine continued as if he hadn't heard, twitching his hands in a shadow of his usual expressive way of speaking, "Dad said yesterday that I should already be looking at colleges. I really should sort out my applications. I should have done that last month! There's so much to do, and with Sectionals…maybe I shouldn't do glee club, I don't want to risk my grades, and it's already a really long drive home, and damn, I didn't set the dishwasher this morning; Dad's always really annoyed when I forget to do that – he won't have enough clean stuff to make dinner."

Blaine's words had long dissolved into speaking out loud to himself, as if he didn't even realise they were in the room anymore. It was really scaring Kurt, who reached out to touch his arm, "Blaine, what's going on?"

Blaine's head whipped up, and his eyes actually fixed on Kurt's for the first time since he had come back into the room. He blinked again, his eyes reading an expression that Kurt could honestly say he had never seen in his boyfriend before, and even more honestly plead to never see again. His voice stuttered, "I should go and make dinner. He'll want dinner. He always loves it when it's there when he gets home, he-"

It was like a switch had been flipped. Blaine's words choked, as if both speech and breathing were fighting for control, and only one thing could happen at a time, because more than that was just too much. And then his legs just buckled. Kurt gave a shout and Finn's footballer reactions instinctively kicked in as he caught the smaller boy under the arms from behind and lowered him more gently to the floor, where he just sat, his breath stuttering as much as his words had, his eyes really not seeing anything.

Finn looked beyond freaked out, sending a scared look to his stepbrother, not wanting to remove his hold on Blaine in case something worse happened, but unsure of what else to do. Kurt couldn't help. He was terrified himself, crouching in front of the boy he loved, taking his face in his hands, trying to elicit a logical response from Blaine – hell, _any_ response, "Blaine? Blaine, please talk to me!" Kurt fell back on a strange instinct he didn't even know he had, his stomach knotting painfully like it had when Blaine told him about the time he had been beaten up at his school dance.

Blaine just shook his head, somehow finding a voice again, not seeming to even realise that he now sat on the floor of McKinley's choir room, or that both Finn and Kurt were holding him upright. "I should get going. It's a long drive home…"

"Like hell are you driving anywhere, Blaine," Finn choked out, fear fuelling the same protective streak that was such a core of his being.

"No, no, my name's Noah Puckerman. I'm a friend of Blaine's. What's going on? What did you say to him?"

Both Kurt and Finn jumped, having forgotten Puck was even in the room. Apparently the miscreant boy had more sense than either of them in a crisis, because he had grabbed Blaine's phone from where he had dropped it, and called back the last number to have called Blaine.

"Well you tell me, lady, 'cause right now, he looks like crap, and he sure as hell didn't look like that before _you_ called, so why don't you-" Puck's voice juddered to an abrupt halt as the person on the other line interrupted him. Kurt turned his gaze back to Blaine, desperate to try and get through to him, but Finn's eyes never left his best friend's face.

So, unlike Kurt, Finn didn't miss it as Puck's face seem to drain of all colour, the reflexive anger on his face going with it. He didn't miss it as Puck sent a desperate, fleeting glance down to Blaine and Kurt, before his eyes found Finn's. He held up a finger, and strode out of the room, Blaine's phone still pressed to his ear. They could hear his voice down the hall, but were unable to make out the words.

Kurt meanwhile, was getting more and more agitated. Nothing he was doing was helping, and he desperately wanted to do _something_. He already knew they were out of their depth. He wanted his dad, who always knew what to do in bad situations like this. He wished he could call Blaine's dad, or that Mr Schuester would realise he had forgotten something, and come strolling back into the room. Hell, even Coach Sylvester would do for him right now! But he couldn't do something, because however much he wanted help, there was no way he was leaving Blaine's side right now. "I should go home…" Blaine mumbled again, mostly to himself this time, as if he were listing things he needed to buy at the grocery store. Such a detached tone from his normally expressive boyfriend was just plain unsettling.

And then Puck came back in, fiddling with the now disconnected phone in his hands, an indefinable look on his face, before he took a breath and addressed the brothers. "Do you think your parents would let Blaine stay with you guys tonight?"

"Puck, what's going on? Who were you talking to?" Kurt didn't mean for his voice to come out so aggressively sharp, and regretted it when the normally tough boy flinched, suddenly looking completely out of his depth.

"That was Blaine's aunt. There was an accident…" He trailed off, and Kurt's stomach dropped, as Finn looked confused, while Blaine just continued to blink as if he had lost all feeling for good, and Puck searched for words, "His dad, well, his dad…"

And Kurt didn't need him to finish that sentence as his heart nearly ripped itself from his chest and he just looked at his boyfriend in horror. Because he knew that look on Puck's face.

_Kurt, son, I need to talk to you. Your mom, well, you know she's been in hospital a lot recently, your mom, she…_

There had been an accident.

There had been an accident, and Blaine's dad was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine knew his dad was dead. In a very logical, detached way, he knew this to be fact, and had done as soon as the words had spilled out of his aunt’s mouth over a dodgy phone connection. But in a much bigger, determined way, in the way that had allowed him to stand up and sing in front of all those people at Regionals, in the way that had allowed him to declare his feelings for Kurt and face the prom, he just could not, would not believe it.

Because last night, they had sat down to a really burnt dinner together, they had talked about colleges while clearing the table, they had even managed to struggle through a whole five minute conversation about how awesome Blaine thought Kurt was. And that morning, when Blaine had been lying in bed chatting to Kurt on speakerphone as the other boy had been throwing clothes around his room trying to find the perfect outfit for the first day back, Blaine had distantly heard the shower run. He had heard the chinking of a breakfast bowl downstairs. He had heard the door go, his dad not saying goodbye because he just assumed Blaine would still be asleep. He had heard the car start, and drive away. He had heard real, unequivocal, normal proof that registers in every single human’s mind and tells them that yes, somewhere, another person you love still exists, living their own life around yours.

So how could that be over? Explain, please, because Blaine just couldn’t. And no one else seemed to be coming up with an answer anytime soon either.

_You’ll be okay tonight? I need to go to the hospital…to…to... I’ll pick you up in the morning, and we can talk about…everything…_

Yeah, yeah, sure he’ll be okay. Put on a grin, put on a mask, he’s a seventeen year old kid, of course he’ll be okay, of course he’ll be fine going back home, of course he’ll be fine driving back, of course he’ll be fine driving, driving down the stretch of road where…driving and maybe seeing a tiny twisted bit of metal, the last indicators of-

So he should go home. He should get on with everything, because really, he had a lot of stuff to do before the start of school, let alone before his aunt picked him up the next morning.

And yet, somehow, and he’s not entirely certain how this happened, he’s sitting in the back of Finn’s car, next to his boyfriend who has a vice-like grip on his hand, sitting as close as the seatbelts would physically allow. (Blaine definitely remembers a wrestling of fingers and thumbs as he thinks he might have almost decapitated the other boy in an insistence for that little bit of safety, despite Kurt’s clear desire to just sit as close as possible to Blaine. Puck may have told Kurt to back off…why was Puck riding up front again?)

And wait, why were they heading into the suburbs of Lima? Blaine distinctly remembers voicing very clearly that he needed to go home.

The car jolted as Finn pressed the brakes a little jerkier than necessary, as if something was distracting him from his driving, and for a split second, an odd image forced itself across Blaine’s vision; an imagined blur of metal that he had been trying not to think about ever since those words had tumbled out of his aunt’s mouth. Outwardly, he blinked numbly, inwardly, his stomach twisted, and then the image was gone, because they were at Kurt’s house, and Blaine was a guest. And that was good. Because, he knew how to be a guest. _This_ was a situation he knew how to act in.

00000

Burt knew something was wrong the moment the four boys stepped through his door. Puck, too serious, Finn, too blank, Blaine, too normal, and his son, Kurt, too _everything_. From the way he held onto his boyfriend in a manner far beyond simple affection, to the desolate, pleading in his eyes, and in the way he used his free hand just to keep contact with Finn’s, gently removing the keys from his fingers and placing them on the sideboard. There was something old in his son’s eyes, and it was a look Burt decidedly did not like to see on his own kid.

For a brief second, there was a silent stalemate between teens and adult, broken only slightly by Puck closing the door behind them, and then, of all people, Blaine punctured it, “Hi Mr Hummel. I hope you don’t mind, but Kurt and Finn said I could stay the night? They said it’d be okay, but I wanted to ask you properly.”

Once the other three boys had recovered from what seemed to be incredulous shock at Blaine’s typical serene, polite tone, Burt was on the receiving end of a serious death glare from his son, forbidding him to answer any other way, “Of course, Blaine, you know you’re always welcome here. You can have the sofa bed like normal.”

Blaine replied, and now Burt was more alert that something really bad was going on, he heard a dull melancholy to the boy’s voice, “Thanks Mr Hummel.”

Stalemate again, but only for a second, as Finn seemed to find his voice, “Mom home?”

“Kitchen,” Burt blinked at his stepson.

And Finn disappeared in an instant, successfully kicking Kurt into action as well, “Blaine, do you want to go up to my room?”

Blaine just looked at Kurt like he was insane, “You know your dad doesn’t like that, Kurt.” It was as if Burt wasn’t even there the way the boy said it, and equally, there was something deeply loaded in the way Blaine had said ‘dad’ that just struck somewhere. “We can just stick to your living room till dinner.”

“I…” Kurt seemed unsure how to respond, while Puck was just leant back against the doorframe, staring at the pair, completely lost and out of place. And then Kurt produced a fake grin, “Sure, Blaine, we can do that.”

But then another idea seemed to spring into Blaine’s head, because he suddenly seemed unsure, “Or maybe I should help your stepmom with dinner? I’m not as good as you at cooking, but I should help…”

Kurt seemed to flounder again, “No, Blaine, you don’t have to do that. You really don’t, Blaine…”

But Blaine was off, weaving his way through the house with surprising fleetness for someone who had lost all ability to even stand for a whole half hour not too long ago. Kurt followed immediately, but Burt stayed where he was and just stared at Puck, silently asking him to answer, right there, what the _hell_ was going on? Puck just looked back at him, having to voice for the second time the news that practically burnt his throat as he said it, “Blaine’s dad was in a car crash on his way home from work. The car got sideswiped by a truck. He died before the ambulance…” Puck’s words finally choked as he just shrugged helplessly, “Blaine got a call from his aunt during glee club.”

And Burt felt like he had just been punched in the face. His feet moved of their own accord, entering the kitchen to see his family, plus the boy everyone was looking at. Finn was leant against the counter, arms folded around himself, and from his wife’s steadily composing face, Burt could tell that Finn had broken the news of what had happened. Kurt meanwhile, was trying to persuade Blaine – who had somehow gotten hold of a saucepan and was filling it with water – that he really, honestly, didn’t need to help with dinner.

Carole’s eyes connected briefly with her husband’s, and she gave him a nearly imperceptible nod before turning back to the stove, “Blaine, honey, just pop that down on the side for now. You can chop up the vegetables.”

And then Burt jerked his head to the kitchen door, addressing his sons, “Boys, they’ve got it covered, let’s get out of their way.”

Finn could have broken sound barriers with the speed he exited the room, but Kurt looked ready to really protest, until he seemed to pause and then just look hopelessly between a too-normal Blaine, and his steadfast father.

As he quietly turned his back on Carole and Blaine, he brushed past his father, and Burt felt his son’s hand slip into his own, holding on for dear life as they walked out of the kitchen.

Finn and Puck were both standing in the Hudson-Hummel living room, in oddly mirroring stances that radiated confusion and an inability to know what they were supposed to do. Burt sighed, knowing he had his hands full, and not entirely sure where to start, “Sit down boys, it’ll be a while before dinner. Puck, maybe you want to head home?”

“No.” Kurt spoke up, looking directly at the boy in question.

Puck nodded, understanding what Kurt was asking. He was asking Puck to recount the phone call that he had been forced to talk through, that _Blaine_ had been forced to live through, because aside from expressing the crux of the situation, details hadn’t really been important other than getting Blaine on his feet, getting Blaine in the car, and getting Blaine to adults so they wouldn’t be the only ones coping with this shit. And so, almost as one, the four of them sat, Kurt never letting go of his grip on his dad’s hand, Finn somehow folding up his huge frame as he leaned his back against the chair, sitting on the floor, while Puck sat, only to get up five seconds later to pace the room.

And the details began to unfold, with every new breath reminding them that Blaine was in the kitchen with Carole, cooking them dinner, as if he was just round their house like any other night of the week.

And with every breath, Burt began to resent this ‘aunt’, despite all his logical reasoning. Because he had been there, he knew what it was like to be knocked over by news of a death, albeit in his case, of a death he had expected and dreaded. He knew how much it hurt, and how much you can forget that maybe others might be hurting too. And yes, Blaine might be older than Kurt had been, he might be strong and smiling, charming and brilliant and brave, but he was still a _kid_ ; a seventeen year old kid, who had lost his dad that exact same moment that she had lost her brother. And however much such news can just _kill_ you in all but flesh, Burt could not bring himself to understand how someone could just tell their nephew to drive two hours home, possibly along the exact highway his dad had died on only hours before, to an empty house, telling him that she’d _‘get to him in the morning’._

And what made it worse, was that Burt _knew_ Blaine, and with a sick coil in his throat, he could practically hear the boy’s gentle tone as he assured his aunt that, yes, of course, that would be fine; whatever she needed him to do.

He was selfishly relieved when Puck informed him that he wouldn’t have to deal with calling the woman that night, as the boy had already pre-empted the situation, and told her that Blaine would be staying with them that night, giving her their address.

Silence had now fallen heavy on the four, each individual painfully aware of the light noises of activity from the kitchen. Puck cleared his throat, “I really should be getting home. See you at school tomorrow?” The question was not entirely a question, but rather, loaded with everything that Puck just really didn’t know how to express.

“I’ll drive you.” Finn stood up.

“Nah, I’ll walk. It’s only round the block…” It wasn’t, it was more, but no one pointed it out. If he wanted to walk and think, they could relate. “Night Mr Hummel, Kurt.” Puck’s voice was soft, unusual without its normal attitude, made more all the more unusual, but at the same time normalised, as Puck briefly paused to clasp his hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt just smiled back with a weak gratefulness.

Finn followed Puck out into the hall, leaving father and son alone. Burt didn’t say anything, he just continued to sit where he was, arm now tight around his son as Kurt leaned against him. He waited, and then Kurt finally found his voice, “What’s wrong with him?” Kurt shook his head, hands gesturing, and he amended his question as his words began to fall out faster, “I mean, I _know_ what’s wrong with him, and _god_ , but Dad, why...just, why is he, why hasn’t he, why…what do I _do?_ What do I say to that? How do I..? I mean, Blaine’s _dad! His dad!_ How can he just be…and Blaine, what will Blaine..? Dad, I don’t, how can…”

Tears spilled, and Burt knew exactly what Kurt was trying to say. And he wished he knew how to answer, but instead he just held his son as his body shook with shock, confusion and sobs. When the flood began to subside, Burt just looked down, asking softly, “You okay?”

“I have to be.” Kurt’s voice was steadier, and Burt knew what he was saying. Kurt was Kurt, and he knew his son would do everything in his power to be there for his boyfriend. But first, he had needed to deal with himself, try and get his head round everything. While Burt was certain that Kurt was not suddenly okay, he also knew that those few minutes had provided Kurt with some catharsis; enough, at least, to cope for the time being.

“You won’t have to deal with this alone. We’re all going to be there for Blaine.” Burt squeezed his son’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know what to say…he’s just… _Blaine_. His dad’s dead and he’s just being Blaine…”

Burt sighed, “We’ll just take it one step at a time, okay?”

“Thanks Dad…” Kurt rested his head against Burt’s shoulder, “I love you.”

And after something like this happening, it was all the more important, “I love you too, Kurt.” He rubbed his hand up and down Kurt’s upper arm in a comforting gesture, “Come on; help me set up this damned sofa bed for Blaine.”

Kurt suddenly scowled, pent up emotions finding a more familiar outlet, “We’re not going to _do_ anything Dad! Why can’t he-”

Burt cut off his son mid-rant, gently calming the brewing storm, “Because right now, Blaine needs normal. And if I suddenly change the rules, I don’t know how he’ll deal with that. Now, if you should happen to sneak down here in the middle of the night, I ain’t gonna say anything against that, because I trust you. But, for Blaine, we’re setting up this bed.”

Kurt’s anger melted in an instant, and he swallowed, unable to truly express how thankful he was to have the dad he did, “Thank you.”

00000

Dinner was lovely, if you spoke only of the quality of the food. Everything else, well, that was just the worst meal of Finn’s life. Blaine had taken two bites in nearly the amount of time that it took Finn to clear his plate – yes, he knew he practically inhaled food when he ate, as Kurt loved to point out, but even by normal standards, Blaine was hardly eating. Carole had saved Blaine from forcing a third bite out of politeness by physically removing the plate from in front of him, and herded the boy upstairs to hunt out some clothes for him to sleep in. Cracks had shown in Blaine’s Blaine-Mask and flickers of bone tiredness that even Finn noticed had seeped through when he had shown his gratefulness at the rescue.

It had left the three of them alone again to finish and clear up in the kitchen, and they did it so slowly that by the time they had finished, Carole had returned, telling them that Blaine was settled and hopefully asleep in their living room. The family had seen little point in prolonging a bid goodnight, and all headed upstairs.

This led them to where they were now, Kurt and Finn sitting on Kurt’s bed, cross-legged, facing each other, talking in stilted whispers. A year or so ago, this scenario would have seemed absurd, but now they were brothers, and both found that of all the stupid, ridiculous, _inane_ things, they just wanted to spend half an hour before they crashed talking about the glee club assignment.

It was through this that maybe Finn could understand why Blaine had wanted to make dinner, although he could sense that Kurt could not.

When Finn finally crept back to his own room, Kurt was left to go through his mildly comforting night-time routine, all the while alone with his wildly crashing thoughts – should he text Mercedes? Did his dad expect him to go to school in the morning? What would happen to Blaine now? Should he even go downstairs to Blaine like his dad implied, or just leave him to sleep in peace? This last thought was his most conflicted and pressing, and he had no idea what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to be there for Blaine, but on the other, he really didn’t know how to handle it all, and what if Blaine didn’t want Kurt right now?

In the end, Kurt decided to remain where he was, however much it wrenched at his heart to do so. He convinced himself that his desire to go downstairs was more from his own need to be close to Blaine, rather than the other way around.

At a little past one in the morning, Kurt found himself to be proved completely wrong.

A door creaked, and the bed dipped, and Kurt didn’t even breathe for fear that he scare Blaine away, because right now, this was the first indication of not-normal behaviour that his boyfriend had exhibited. And then Blaine just slid under the covers and curled up facing him, barely millimetres away from actually touching Kurt, folding up his legs and wrapping his arms around himself, drowned in Finn’s too-large borrowed sleep clothes, his soft breath barely making a whisper in the silent room.

All confused, conflicted thoughts fled from Kurt’s head, and he just right there knew what to do. Calm, steady and strong, and it only took the tiniest of movements to close that last little distance and wrap his arms around Blaine, swallowing back the lump in his throat as Blaine just as silently and gently curled around Kurt, burying his head against Kurt’s neck.

No words were said, their breathing beginning to fall into a synchronised pattern as they got closer back to sleep.

And all Kurt could think, all he could hope, was that he was able to do this, because the tables had turned, and this time it was Blaine who needed Kurt to give him courage.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt awoke to a soft knock on his bedroom door. It took him a second to orientate himself as he blearily opened his eyes to see the face of the gorgeous boy who he had woken up entangled with. And then his sleepy smile faded, and that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach returned as he remembered why Blaine was in his arms in the first place. His muscles, so relaxed from sleep, now tensed as he suddenly couldn’t bear to make a movement in case he woke Blaine and wiped that peaceful calm from the other boy’s sleeping face.

The door crept open, and Kurt was reminded why he had woken up in the first place; it was Carole, her face soft as she took in the scene before her. Barely above a whisper, she murmured, “Time to get up, Kurt. You still have school today.”

If Blaine hadn’t been asleep against him, Kurt would have exploded angrily, but as it was, he somehow managed to hiss back at a surprisingly quiet volume, considering the haughty venom he laced into his tone, “How can you think I’d go to school after what’s happened? I’m not going to leave Blaine!”

Carole remained impassive. “Your dad and I have talked about this already. I’m going to stay home until Blaine’s aunt arrives, which should be pretty soon. Blaine will be with her all day at least – there’s nothing you can do right now, sweetie.”

Blaine stirred slightly without waking, but it was enough to deflate Kurt slightly. He knew where the adults were coming from, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He had promised himself that he would be there for Blaine all of the way… He decided to fall to a middle ground, for now. “I’ll get ready for school while Blaine’s still sleeping, but if he wakes up and wants me to stay, then I will.”

Carole recognised the stubbornness she so often saw in her husband, and knew that was as good as it was going to get for now. Burt would have to try before he left for work. “Breakfast will be ready by the time you both come down. We want to see you no later than eight.”

Kurt nodded, taking a glance at the clock, happy to see that his stepmom had left him just enough time to get ready; an hour should be okay. As Carole closed the door behind her, Kurt sighed deeply, trying to gather strength for when Blaine woke up; what should he say? How would Blaine be? They hadn’t spoken when Blaine had slipped into his room in the middle of the night, and then, it hadn’t been necessary. But now, in the light of the cool September morning…it was different.

Gently, Kurt managed to untangle himself from his boyfriend and slide out of bed, painfully reminded of another time when he had done just that. Only that time, with a soon-to-be-hungover Blaine, it had been charged with thoughts that now seemed so trivial, at a time when their relationship had been completely different.

At seven forty five, Kurt had reached the outfit-selection part of his morning routine, and was, to be frank, stuck. What was he supposed to wear? What was appropriate? He had worn black when he had sung for Pavarotti’s death, but what if Blaine thought such a sentiment was inappropriate, or just didn’t want to be reminded, or-

A soft mumbling floated from the bed behind Kurt, followed soon by a rustling of the duvet and a slow shifting of limbs as they co-ordinated themselves into wakefulness, “Morning Blaine.”

Blaine shifted, blinking slowly up at Kurt, and for that one fraction of a moment, Kurt was struck with how cute his boyfriend was, sitting up in his bed with his hair askew, his borrowed black sweater swallowing his hands as he tried to scrub his face into waking up. And then the moment shattered, and Kurt could literally see the memories flooding into Blaine’s conscious mind as his whole body seemed to slump and his eyes dropped to his hands as they now lay in his lap, avoiding Kurt’s gaze, “Morning.” The reply was forced, broken and barely audible.

Kurt just stood there for a second, barely registering that he was only in his robe, because he _still_ hadn’t decided what was appropriate to wear, and waited. He fully expected just then for a false grin to split onto Blaine’s face, and it would be yesterday all over again. He did not expect the next words to spill out of the other boy’s mouth, so fast that it was as if they were toxic in his mouth, “How do you arrange a funeral?”

Kurt was floored, his mouth falling open as his breath caught, and what on earth were you supposed to answer when someone asked you that? “I… Blaine… you don’t have to think about that all just yet. You’re allowed time to-”

“To what?” Blaine’s tone wasn’t aggressive, though Kurt would have understood if it had been. He would have preferred it, in all honesty, because anything was better than the utter void of emotion that was Blaine right now.

He hesitated. “I don’t know…”

Their eyes were locked then, neither blinked, and Kurt couldn’t stand to see the desolation in Blaine’s gaze, realising with a jolt that his boyfriend was honestly just looking to him to make things make sense, to tell him what to do. Because Blaine was a lot of things, had coped and overcome a lot of crap, but this? This was all new. Blaine _needed_ him to have the answers. And Kurt didn’t. Yes, he had lost his mom. Yes, he had been forced to sit through her funeral, stand by her grave, and somehow, impossibly continue on with his life without her. And he’d managed all because…he’d had his dad. And now, he had to be that person for Blaine. Deep breath. Deep breath, one word at a time. Stay calm.

With more serenity than he felt inside, Kurt gently sat down on the edge of his bed, reaching forwards to rest one hand over Blaine’s clasped ones. Carefully, he waited until Blaine met his gaze once more, “Whatever you want to do, we can figure it out. I promise.” It seemed empty; useless words that meant nothing.

Except, Blaine’s mask slipped then, just for a second, “I don’t know what I want,” his voice cracked slightly, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Kurt felt his eyes sting, and willed himself to keep control as he said, “I don’t think that there _is_ a ‘supposed to’.”

But then, before more could be said, the brief reprise from false smiles and bravados was broken, as Finn once again proved his impeccable skill at appearing at _just_ the wrong moment. The tall boy knocked as he tentatively slipped into the room, floundering slightly when he saw Blaine was awake, “H-hey. Mom said breakfast’s nearly ready. She said you’d need these.” He gestured slightly with the bundle of clothes in his arms, “She washed them last night so you’d have something to wear that fits…” A tiny grin ghosted across his face before it faltered awkwardly, and he put Blaine’s clothes down on the foot of the bed before disappearing with an odd little wave.

“I should get dressed.” That horrible normal-Blaine voice was back, “So should you – don’t you have school in like an hour?”

“Blaine, I don’t have to go-”

“What? Sure you do, why wouldn’t you? I’m gonna grab a shower.” In a blink, Blaine had broken contact, shuffling out of bed and scooping up his clothes, before disappearing altogether.

Kurt’s hand remained where it was, resting bereft against the scrunched up sheets.

00000

Carole sat on the sofa, waiting, pretending to read her magazine. Not long ago, her son had taken Kurt by the arm and silently led him out the door so he could drive them to school. She knew that his lack of resistance must have been something to do with Blaine, because both herself and Burt had been ready to put up a fight should Kurt have come down to breakfast with a stubborn resolve. Burt had left for work not long after, leaving Carole alone in the house with Blaine, who currently sat silently in the adjacent chair, legs folded up off the floor, his unblinking gaze fixed on the carpet.

A knock on the door made them both jump visibly, but Blaine made no other movement other than to raise his gaze questioningly to Carole. The sheer blankness stabbed at the woman once more, before she rose and left him alone to answer the door, praying that from this point on things went as smoothly as possible, because Blaine needed stability right now, and she had no idea what was on the other side of that front door.

“Mrs Hummel?” There was no smile in that voice, but there was something strangely familiar in its hollow emptiness. The petite woman on her doorstep was younger than Carole, probably in her early to mid-thirties, and her brown eyes were red-rimmed. She looked exhausted. In an odd way, her clothes gave Carole some comfort; dispelling the horrible nightmare thoughts she had been having about an aloof, uncaring aunt to whom Blaine would become a burden. Dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and baggy sweater, she honestly looked like she had just picked up the first things that came to hand, uncaring of what the world around her thought, because right now, something far worse was going on to worry about something like _appearances_.

“Carole, please. Do you want to come in? Blaine’s in the living room.”

“Sarah Fielding,” she summoned a wan smile then, offering her hand to shake as she stepped into the hall, “Thank you, so much, for taking him last night. I don’t think that… I just wouldn’t have been good for him. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t be silly, of course we did. Blaine’s always welcome here.”

The woman nodded distantly, before recovering slightly, “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe Derek’s gone. It doesn’t seem real. The last time I even saw him and Blaine was a little after New Year’s...”

Carole somehow managed to keep the surprise (and judging) out of her expression. It wasn’t like Westerville and Lima were that far apart, and to have not seen each other in that long? She couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Aunt Sarah?” Blaine’s tentative voice made them both turn.

“Blaine…” Sarah’s voice came out in a choked breath, and Carole immediately felt that she was intruding. For a moment, no one moved or spoke, until Sarah finally took two steps and wrapped her arms tightly around her slightly taller nephew. Blaine just seemed to hug back reflexively at the sudden contact, while from where Carole was standing, she could clearly see how well Sarah was somehow keeping any tears at bay lest it upset Blaine. Finally, Blaine pulled back, smiling weakly in an uncanny reflection of his aunt’s earlier polite smile to Carole. Sarah seemed to gather herself, “How you doing, sweetheart?”

Blaine just shrugged, avoiding the question, “What happens now?”

For a second, Carole watched the woman flounder, much as her sons had earlier, but she quickly recovered, “Now, you come home with me. It’ll be just you and me, and we’ll sort this out together, okay? One step at a time.” Carole frowned; was it her imagination, or had there been something more behind those words than what had actually been said? The way she had said ‘just you and me’, and the way Blaine’s shoulders had visibly relaxed at the reassurance of a home.

“Okay.” Short sentences were starting to become a habit for the teenager, and Carole found it so hard to equate it with her stepson’s usually exuberant boyfriend.

“Why don’t you grab any stuff you have and go wait for me in the car, honey?”

Blaine nodded, grabbing his bag from yesterday, before really surprising Carole by stepping forwards and hugging her, “Thanks for letting me stay the night, Mrs Hummel. Tell Kurt I’ll…I’ll call him?”

“Of course Blaine. Like I told your aunt – you’re _always_ welcome here.” She squeezed his arm for emphasis, but the blank look had returned, and he just nodded before disappearing outside.

Mrs Fielding’s whole body seemed to slump as soon as Blaine was gone, “Oh god…I can’t do this…”

“Yes you can,” Carole said. The other woman jumped, as if she had forgotten Carole was still standing next to her. “Blaine’s your nephew, and you’ve both lost someone dear to you. You can do this.”

Sarah quirked an odd smile, “I don’t have kids. My husband never wanted them. I’ve seen Blaine once, twice a year since he was born. We might as well be strangers, but when the social worker asked me last night if I was going to honour my brother’s wishes and take Blaine in, or if they should contact his mother instead, I didn’t even think before I said I’d take him… God, I haven’t even called Peter to tell him…”

Carole didn’t really know what to say. Instead, she somehow summoned a smile that she hoped was comforting, “I can give you our number? You can give us a call, day or night.”

Sarah smiled gratefully, but still frowned slightly, “Your son must be a really close friend to Blaine, for you to be so kind.”

Carole’s breath stuck in her throat as she realised the implications of those words, and she really hoped it just meant that the other woman just didn’t know that Blaine had a boyfriend, rather than not knowing _anything_ about her nephew. But, just in case, she wasn’t about to be responsible for outing the boy, so she just patted her shoulder reassuringly, “Yes, they are.”

After a quick exchange of details, both Sarah and Blaine were gone, and Carole gathered herself to make some calls to her family, knowing each one would want an update.

00000

No one knew how to act. This was so much closer to home than when Sue’s sister had died, yet slightly more removed than when Burt Hummel had been in hospital battling for his life. Blaine was one of them, but still, not quite. He was ‘Kurt’s Boyfriend’ to most of them, and only really Finn and Rachel could properly call themselves Blaine’s actual friends. Even through all the hang-outs over the summer, Blaine was still in that odd niche, the best friend of a best friend, who you joked and behaved like a friend to, but were in no way close enough to help deal with something like this.

So, everyone was falling back on what seemed like the next logical step. – namely, _continuously_ asking Kurt if he was okay.

And what kind of a question was that? No, he wasn’t okay, of course he wasn’t – his boyfriend, his incredible, beautiful boyfriend, had just lost his father at the age of seventeen! So no, Kurt wasn’t okay, but that _paled_ in comparison to what Blaine was going through, and how dare people treat him like glass, as if it had been his own father who had died? Couldn’t they see? Didn’t they understand? Blaine’s dad was _dead,_ he wasn’t coming back, and so what place was theirs to dare to ask if _Kurt_ was okay?

It was probably for this reason that Kurt had found himself eating his lunch with Santana and Brittany, of all people. Because Santana had just looked him over once, not saying anything about what had happened. She hadn’t needed to, her eyes had said it all, and wow if Kurt’s opinion of the queen-bitch hadn’t skyrocketed when she had simply launched into a tirade about yesterday’s Rachel diva drama. Brittany had equally not said anything, just sitting there, every now and again throwing in her usual random comments, until, that is, when the bell rang. And then the tall blonde had just hugged Kurt – like, _really_ hugged him. And before he could even form any kind of verbal response, she had just said, as serious and _Brittany_ as you please, that this meant that the next time he hugged Blaine, it would be the best, because he’d be getting a hug from two people.

Kurt had just stood there, unable to define the horrible cloying sensation in his throat as he desperately tried to gather himself. Santana had just smiled sadly, nodding a goodbye to him as they left for class, and Kurt had thought that maybe he could make it through this day after all.

 By the time classes were finally over for the afternoon, Kurt was exhausted. He was so glad it was Friday. He hadn’t been able to concentrate; not at all expecting to hear from Blaine, yet equally, unable to stop reflexively checking his phone, unable to stop wondering what Blaine was doing. His exhaustion was only matched, he realised, in his step-brother, the taller boy’s face weary as he waited for Kurt, leaning against the car they shared, “Hey dude.”

Kurt rarely heard such despondency from Finn, and it really didn’t seem right, “Hey. You ready?”

“Sure.” Monosyllabic was the key.

The drive home was silent; Finn didn’t even play any music. Was this what it was like? What it was going to be like? Tip-toeing around everything, terrified, because what teenager functioned well in situations like this?

He would say ‘Blaine’, but that just really wasn’t true, because ‘functioning well’ in Kurt’s definition of the term, when it came to the death of a loved one, was _not_ acting normal. And he was back again, on the same topic that had been smothering him all day. How was he supposed to behave when his boyfriend was exactly the same, over-achieving, smiling Warbler he had always been? Apart from when he had got into bed with Kurt last night, Blaine had just been Blaine, and in those few instances when the mask had slipped, he had just been…blank. So what-

Oh god. Kurt’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Dalton. The Warblers. Wes, David, and all of Blaine’s friends – they had no idea. And considering the way Blaine was clearly not coping in any kind of functioning manner right now, Kurt really doubted that the boy would be in any kind of mind to actually pick up the phone and tell them. Nor should he have to. But they were his friends, and they could help, and Kurt knew that this meant only one thing – he would have to be that guy. He would have to be the one to tell Blaine’s friends what had happened, to break into the bubble of normal teen drama with a poisonous dose of real life, and make them just like Kurt, Finn and the rest of the New Directions – completely clueless for what this means for them as the people closest to Blaine. As the only people Blaine had left in the world.

Kurt phone buzzed, and in his panic, he half expected it to be Wes. But it wasn’t.

_Hey. Are you busy? Xx_

It was Blaine. Kurt’s fingers flew across the screen of his phone, his mind simultaneously trying to construct an appropriate reply.

_Never busy for you – you want to meet up? Just left school now. Xxx_

The reply was nigh on immediate, but to Kurt it seemed like hours, hours in which he didn’t even breathe.

_Is that okay? I’m at my aunts house. You able to come round? Xxx_

“Finn, we’re taking a detour. Can you drop me at Blaine’s?”

“Err…sure dude, but I didn’t think he was going back to Westerville today?”

“Obviously.” Kurt snipped back, and completely missed the weird quirky little grin that Finn pulled at hearing the familiar sass from his brother.

_Just give me the address. I’m already on the road. Xxx_

“You know how to drive here?” Kurt waved Blaine’s most recent reply under Finn’s nose as the boy slowed down slightly in his driving.

Finn’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise, “Sure I do – isn’t that like, right across the street from where Santana lives?”

Kurt frowned, looking back at the address, “Huh.”

0

“You want me to stick around?” Despite himself, Kurt had to hide a smile at Finn’s tentative tone. Clearly Santana’s repeated ‘Lima Heights’ threats had made a profound impact on his stepbrother’s psyche. The neighbourhood wasn’t _that_ bad…

Okay, so that guy on the corner was a little bit weird, but overall, it was just a slightly run down area of Lima. As far as Kurt was concerned, the whole of his hometown was a backward dive – a little more peeled paint didn’t really make a difference.

“I don’t know how long this’ll take…”

“Dude, it’s fine. I’ll go see Santana or something.” Finn shrugged, clearly not liking the prospect of going home to Burt without his son.

Kurt eyed Finn for a second, but his skin felt tight and he found it hard to keep a clear head – he _needed_ to be in that house. He needed to see Blaine. He needed to know the reasons and the words behind those horribly inadequate texts.

A sharp rapping on the window made them both jerk their focuses away from each other, to turn to the driver’s side window and see a very confused and irate looking Santana. Why she was irate, Kurt wasn’t really sure, but then, it was Santana; she didn’t really need a reason to be pissed off with someone.

“I won’t be too long.” Kurt shot Finn a soft, semi-brave smile, getting out of the car, “Hey Santana.”

“Kurt, what..?” Santana trailed off with an odd look on her face as Kurt pinpointed the right house and walked up the paved drive.

Steeling himself, Kurt raised his hand to knock, but the door opened just before he did so, revealing a harried looking woman, who jumped a little in shock when she nearly fell over a teenage boy on her doorstep. She blinked, nonplussed, “Can I…can I help you?”

“My name’s Kurt Hummel, I’m-”

The woman cut him off, “Of course, Blaine’s friend. Sorry, honey, I was just heading out to get something for us to eat tonight. He’s just in the kitchen.”

Kurt was about to say something, after all, her brother had just died, but he was cut off rather rudely by her cell, which she dived into her bag for, and was already halfway down the drive, badly juggling keys and phone, “Peter?...No, no, I’m just glad you called…”

Kurt stop bothering to listen to the rest, his attention now wholly fixed on the front door of this new, alien house, now ajar from where the woman hadn’t bothered to shut it. He pushed it open the rest of the way, and paused. This didn’t feel right. He didn’t know that woman, and this just wasn’t Blaine’s house. Blaine’s house was in Westerville. Blaine’s house was warm, and happy, because it belonged to Blaine…

“Hey.”

Kurt looked to the left, and there was his boyfriend. He viciously stifled any pity that tried to well within himself, both for Blaine and for himself, because pity was not what he wanted to feel here, nor what Blaine needed. “Hey.”


	4. Chapter 4

“This will be your room?” Blaine’s aunt pushed open a door down the hall to reveal a medium sized room, only a little smaller than Blaine’s own…old… bedroom. It was stark, though, cluttered with boxes, with a desk squeezed in, and a rundown sofa that had definitely seen better days, “I know it’s in a bad state, but, you know, we can clear it out a bit, move your stuff in, and the sofa opens out into a pretty decent bed that you can use until we can hire a van to move some of your bigger furniture down here…”

“It’s fine.”

Blaine watched as Aunt Sarah flinched a little, and felt a bit guilty – it had been all he had been saying since she had collected him from Kurt’s house that morning, and he was probably even sicker of saying it that she was of hearing it, but he was just so _tired_. She recovered quickly, but poorly, “Okay then, well, I’ll leave you to get…settled. I’ll be in the kitchen making a shopping list if you need me.”

And then she was gone, and Blaine felt his entire body slouch. Finally alone. Finally… alone.

Alone, because this room wasn’t his, but it was, because the solicitor said so. Because he couldn’t go home. Because this was apparently his home – and what the hell gave _anyone_ the right to suddenly start calling his home “Your Dad’s House”, and his aunt’s house “Your Home”? He had wanted to yell, he had wanted to shout, the entire time he had been listening to that man describe in gentle detail how his future would be okay, because his dad had made provisions, he had sorted it out. Of course, there would have to be a few alterations to his life here and there, but everyone just wanted the best for him, everyone would endeavour to cause only minimal upheaval to his life.

 Right…

Blaine stood in the middle of the room, _his room_. He saw boxes, and the sofa, and the desk. Detached objects of no meaning, things he had no feeling towards.

Something started to crawl under his skin, fed by the silence and the hollow space that pressed down on him. It spread, welling up in his stomach, up his throat, into his arms, his limbs – a demand to twitch, to violently shake his arms, _anything_ to get rid of this suffocating noose around his chest. His lungs contracted, and he felt like he was an observer in his own body, while at the exact same moment, being entirely too trapped in his own mind, unable to escape, unable to comprehend.

 _Alone_.

The fissure of hostile energy spiked through Blaine’s body, and without even really realising it, he had already reached for his phone in a desperate grasp and was texting words that in no way reflected what he was feeling. And yet, even as he typed them, the energy seemed to lull slightly, and when Kurt texted him back almost immediately, Blaine felt his breathing stutter back into a more regular rhythm.

_I’m already on the road. Xxx_

Just a normal phrase, but it was like a drug, washing through Blaine’s system and soothing the panic that had clawed at him only seconds before. Unable to bear another second in his bedroom that was not his bedroom, Blaine took a steadying breath and made his way downstairs.

And back into the awkwardness. He knew his aunt was desperately trying, and that she had lost someone she loved too, but neither of them knew how to act around each other. They were related, but despite living so close, Blaine hadn’t ever really had much contact with Sarah. He had never really known why, only that his dad had really not liked his brother in law, Blaine’s Uncle Peter. Blaine had only met Peter a few times, and didn’t really see what his dad had particularly objected to, but he always remembered the tension at family get-togethers. Peter was out of town at the moment on business, according to Sarah, all the way over in Seattle, and wouldn’t be back for another fortnight or so.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sarah said, looking up from the counter. “I was just heading out…do you want to come to the store with me?” Her question was incredibly uncertain, and once again Blaine was reminded of how awkward it all was, on top of everything else.

“No, I’m fine.” Seriously. Could he not say anything else?

But if his aunt showed annoyance at his repetitive communication skills, she didn’t show it, instead offering him a watery smile, replying quietly, “Okay then, I won’t be long. Make yourself at home while I’m gone, okay? I’ve got my phone on me, and I’ve put the number on the fridge.”

“Okay.”

But he wasn’t okay, because it had been bad enough being alone in that room, so what would the whole _house_ feel like?

Blaine heard voices at the front door, and somehow managed to push his thoughts away. He saw his aunt make her way down the drive through the living room window, and went out into the hall.

Kurt. “Hey.”

Kurt whipped his head round, and Blaine watched as a myriad of emotions flittered across his boyfriend’s face until it seemed to settle into a serene gentleness that was so new to Blaine, but at the same time, seemed so right on Kurt. “Hey.”

A pause, and then in one smooth motion, Kurt had stepped into the hall, closed the door and taken two slow steps into Blaine’s personal space. It was as if Kurt had broken through an invisible barrier, a barrier that had been so strong that it had held fast all day, even when his aunt had hugged him, or when he had hugged Carole, or when he had shaken the solicitor’s hand. And Kurt had broken it just by standing there.

And suddenly, Blaine could breathe. Suddenly, he wasn’t alone. The same feeling of safety he had felt the night before, when Kurt had simply lain there with him, returned. They were barely an inch apart, and Kurt just looked at Blaine, silently telling him that he was here, gently taking each of Blaine’s hands in his own at their sides. And Blaine just let himself breathe, the noose around his throat loosening as he just let his head fall slightly forward to rest against Kurt’s temple, his shoulders relaxing.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there for, in a stranger’s hallway, in an alien house, in Blaine’s home that was not his home, but he could not describe how grateful he was to Kurt for just _being_ there, for letting him breathe. Finally, he pulled back slightly so he could look at Kurt, before moving forward again to place a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips, “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” Kurt paused, his face still only inches from Blaine, and it was a testament to their relationship that the silence hanging over them was comfortable. He seemed to be debating how to phrase something, “How are you doing?”

If the question hadn’t made something stick in Blaine’s throat, then he probably would have kissed Kurt again out of gratefulness from him not asking the moronic question of ‘ _are you okay?’_. He shrugged one shoulder, intending to answer that he was alright, considering, but instead all that tumbled out was, “I don’t know.”

Kurt sighed softly, “Do you want to sit down and talk, or..?” He trailed off, apparently not actually having an ‘or’.

Blaine shrugged again, not meeting Kurt’s eyes, as the relief that had swallowed the panic was now itself being swallowed by the same numbness that had been trying to drown him all day. This had been a bad idea. Kurt didn’t deserve to be dragged down like this, “Your dad will probably be wondering where you are. I saw Finn’s car outside, maybe you should-”

Kurt cut him off, a resolute gentleness gracing his features as he sharply tightened his grip on each of Blaine’s hands, jolting the other boy into actually looking at him, “Dad doesn’t finish work for a couple of hours, and Finn has his hands full with Santana – hopefully not literally… I’m not going to force my company upon you Blaine, but you texted me, and I’m here.”

Blaine nodded tightly, unsure of where to begin, his body automatically keeping a hold of one of Kurt’s hands as he led them to into a stranger’s living room, and onto a relative’s sofa. Everything was moving so fast, and his head was spinning so much from all the new information, changes, implications and facts that he barely had any room for emotion, any room to try and voice what he really felt.

So maybe that was the answer – stick to the facts, “It’s been twenty four hours. A whole day.”

“Oh, honey…” The endearment slipped from Kurt’s lips in a breath, previously only having been used between the two in light conversation or ribbing, with grins on their faces and sparkles in their eyes. Now, it just lingered in the space between them, an anchor.

“Aunt Sarah wants to go home tomorrow –to my home. To…sort stuff out… I don’t think, I don’t know if…” Blaine trailed off and then seemed to shake himself, this time continuing vehemently, “When is it too soon? Because yesterday, I was sitting with you and the New Directions, and I was thinking about what the Warblers might do this year. And I was gonna go round yours, and kiss you. Then I was gonna go home and see Dad, and we’d probably argue about colleges again. And I’d have called you to say goodnight, and texted David about meeting up on Saturday. And I was gonna go back to Dalton, and there’d have been glee club and school and you. But now, today, all I really have is you… So when is it too soon to actually lie down and take all that, to let them plan your life, and tell you it’ll be okay, because they have everything covered, and that you’ll _get through this_? Because I already have, and it’s only been a day. Shouldn’t there be a space in between, to just…” He trailed off, finally unable to voice any more, the pent up pressures of the day and the repeated _I’m fines_ finally bursting out in a terrified mess.

“…To just stop.” Kurt finished for Blaine.

Blaine looked down at his lap, where his hands sat entwined with Kurt’s, “Everyone’s looking at me like I’m nuts. Like I should have burst into tears, grieved, accepted and moved on in the space of a day just so they can get everything sorted with my life. But I can’t. I’ve tried, and I just…can’t.”

Kurt felt a stab of something close to his heart; a healthy dose of anger at the world, as well as a sliver of guilt, because hadn’t he been thinking something along the same lines? Hadn’t he been willing Blaine to react? Perhaps more harshly than he had intended, Kurt brought one hand up to rest against Blaine’s cheek, and forced his boyfriend to meet his gaze, “Don’t you dare let _anyone_ tell you what you should be feeling right now, Blaine Anderson, because they don’t know shit, okay?”

 Blaine blinked, unused to hearing Kurt swear, but the words had managed the desired effect, because he just stared at Kurt with a desperate, grateful honesty, “I love you.”

Kurt pulled a smile, a lovingly familiar response falling from his lips, “I love you too.  And so do a lot of other people. You’ve…you’ve lost your dad,” his words choked over voicing the reality that made Blaine flinch, “But you’re not alone, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me.”

And then Blaine’s mouth twisted into a crooked, bitter smile that looked completely out of place on the Warbler’s face, and Kurt was reminded starkly of their first fight in the Lima Bean with the ‘bi  incident’. Without meeting Kurt’s eyes, Blaine repeated, “Yesterday, I had my dad, and a home, and the Warblers, and Dalton and the guys, and you.”

“Yeah, and-”

Blaine cut Kurt off, repeating the words that Kurt had missed the implications of the first time, “Now I just have you.”

Kurt froze, thoughts whirling and crashing around in his head as he tried to work out what Blaine was implying, “Blaine? What’s happened?”

Blaine didn’t look at him, and for a minute, neither of them breathed. Then the bitter smile faded from his face in pure exhaustion, and in a dead monotone, he relayed everything that he had learned that day. As if learning your dad was dead wasn’t enough for a lifetime…

“I’m moving to Lima, to live with Aunt Sarah and Uncle Peter. She’s agreed to be my guardian until I graduate high school, after which time Dad’s estate will be released to me. Until then, everything is held in trust, untouchable except for the monthly stipend Aunt Sarah will get to look after me. Dad sorted it all out in his will…years ago, apparently.”

Kurt titled his head slightly, “It’ll be okay Blaine. It’s only for a year, and your aunt seems nice. I know it’ll be weird living in a new town, but-”

Again, Blaine cut him off, “The will was old. Dad sorted it all when he turned forty, before everything happened at my old school. He made loads of provisions in it, like who should take care of me, how I should live, what would happen to our home, making sure I’d have enough funds to get into any college I wanted to _safe_ in a separate, untouchable account, laying out everything he wanted for his…funeral.” Blaine stumbled over the word. “He thought of everything…”

A sick feeling coiled in Kurt’s stomach, as he realised what Blaine was trying to say, but unable to voice, because to voice it would make it real, “Dalton…”

“Is expensive,” Blaine stated flatly, “And far away. Until I graduate, the only accessible money from Dad’s estate is the maintenance stipend for my guardian. And he stipulated everything to do with that when I was still at state school, before Dalton. He never thought to change anything when I switched schools, because, well, why would he? It’s not like any of this was supposed to happen…”

“Surely there’s something your aunt can do? Or a lawyer or something. Special circumstances, or..?”

Blaine’s body just radiated defeat as he sat there on the unfamiliar sofa next to Kurt, their knees touching. “Apparently by the time all the legal processes of technically contesting the will are dealt with, I’d be graduating anyway. And until then, there’s no way my aunt and uncle can afford to send me to Dalton for an entire year.” He laughed, hollow and humourlessly, “So I guess I’ll be joining McKinley after all.”

Kurt had imagined this moment, those exact words, countless times. He had fantasised and dreamt about what it would be like; the joy, the happiness, the sheer completeness that would be Blaine at McKinley, with his friends, in his glee club.

But now? Now his just felt sick, and empty. Completely helpless, because there was nothing he could do. Now, he realised, he didn’t _want_ Blaine to come to McKinley High. He didn’t _want_ Blaine to move to Lima. He didn’t _want_ any of this.

All he wanted was for Blaine to smile, for Blaine to go home to Westerville, to his dad, to go to Dalton in that dapper uniform, to grin and dance like a maniac with the Warblers.

Except that couldn’t happen now. The world had shattered and reformed in entirely the wrong way.

_Twenty four hours._


	5. Chapter 5

It was cold. Clinical, even. And worst of all, horribly, horribly silent. Blaine’s aunt was downstairs, going through some things that she needed to get together, which just left Kurt and Blaine by themselves in Blaine’s bedroom.

His real bedroom.

An empty suitcase lay open on the floor, while another half full suitcase sat expectantly on the bed. Three cardboard boxes, not especially large, were dotted about their feet, one already full of last year’s schoolwork and sheet music.

The other two were still empty. Kurt wasn’t brave enough to be the one to decide what those should contain. It would essentially be Blaine’s life, all in five measly containers. The rest of his stuff would of course be either collected later, or packed up with the rest of the house and put into storage until Blaine officially inherited everything. But today was only Saturday, and right now, they needed to somehow condense everything that Blaine was, everything that he needed, so that he could actually move into his new room in his aunt’s house.

When Blaine had asked him if he would come with him on this particular trip, Kurt had immediately agreed – he had helped Coach Sylvester clear out her sister’s room, so he could damn well go with Blaine on his first visit to his house since the… accident.

But now they were here, and Kurt could barely stand to watch the chilling calm of expression on Blaine’s face. His unseeing gaze just methodically taking random clothes off hangers and out of drawers, numb fingers leafing through ringbinders and notes to decide what he would need most urgently.

So Kurt just bit the inside of his mouth in a sharp effort to not say anything, to just let Blaine deal with this, and be there should his boyfriend need to talk. He simply turned to the wardrobe again and picked out yet another item of clothing that Blaine had bypassed, silently taking out _the_ most disgusting sweater he had ever seen from its folded home in the suitcase, and replacing it with his new choice. And was that a glimmer of a smile that Kurt saw in the corner of his eye as Blaine saw him?

Kurt could only hope, because it was far too fleeting for him to be able to know for sure.

All too soon it was nearing midday, and they were now left with only the two empty cardboard boxes to fill. When it became clear from Blaine’s rather random and dithery movements that he was putting it off, Kurt prompted, “What do you want me to start with now?”

Blaine floundered, and it was pretty obvious that he had no idea. Because clothes and schoolwork are one thing; essentially impersonal but for a hint of individuality. Everything else was a completely different matter, because these were the kinds of things that you lived with, that never really leave your sanctuary of a bedroom. These were the things that made you, that you clung to, that reflected your memories. These were the things that would make all this real. Final.

“I think I’m gonna just get some air…” Blaine said finally, “Do you think you could finish up here?”

And then he was out of the door before Kurt could even blink. Kurt had to bite back a shout about running away from problems, because that would not help anyone right now.

Running a hand through his hair, Kurt was at a loss. How was he supposed to just _‘finish up here’_? Sure, Blaine could easily come back in a couple of weeks to get anything Kurt might have neglected to pack, but that wasn’t the point.

As far as Kurt was concerned, Blaine was barely holding it together, all his emotions and thoughts shoved and moulded into a too tight space behind his too normal mask. Blaine needed to have a home, and that was what today’s trip was about – not just a brief stop to get Blaine enough stuff to live on for a month in a strange house.

Kurt sighed, all too aware of their conversation from yesterday afternoon, and counted softly in his head, methodically trying to get a handle on his emotions. He sat down on Blaine’s bed, his eyes scanning the dishevelled room, trying to gather the motivation to just get on with it. But it was so depressing. And he didn’t just mean Derek Anderson’s tragic death.

It was everything, and in the most simplistic of terms – so far, senior year sucked.

Kurt wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but finally he decided that the best thing to do would just be to bite the bullet and do exactly what Blaine wanted. He still didn’t believe that Blaine ignoring the reality of what was happening was healthy behaviour, but he had promised himself that he would be there for Blaine as he let his boyfriend deal with this however he needed to.

But then as Kurt rose from his bed, he had a sudden thought. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he quickly thumbed open a contact, waiting to see if he answered.

  _“Hey Kurt.”_ David’s usually exuberant tone was dulled slightly, and Kurt didn’t need to wonder why.

Last night after Finn had driven them home and he had given Burt and Carole an update, Kurt had taken it upon himself to call Wes and David. It had been two of the worst phone calls of his life. Both had heard about the fatality on the news, but the name had not been released, and neither in their wildest imaginations had thought it was anyone they knew.

David had been uncharacteristically silent through most of their call, and every so often when he did talk to ask about Blaine, his breathing and words hitched jerkily over the line. Kurt never called him out on it. Wes, in contrast, had completely shocked Kurt by letting loose the longest, most vehement and explicit string of curses and swears Kurt had ever heard – and he knew Santana. When the normally proper and together asian boy had finally calmed down, he had said he was going to call Blaine. David had said much along the same lines, and Kurt was glad he had been able to be there for them to vent in their own ways before they had to face Blaine.

He didn’t know what had been said in either conversation between Blaine and his two best friends, but he didn’t really need to. It was private, and as long as they were able to be there for Blaine, Kurt left it at that.

“Hey. Are you and Wes busy?”

 _“Nah. I mean, we were gonna do something, but now…yeah. We didn’t. So Wes just came round to hang and stuff.”_ And talk about Blaine. This was left unsaid.

“I’m at Blaine’s now, with him and his aunt. I wondered if you two would be able to come over and help him pack up some things.”

There was a fumbling on the other end of the line, and Kurt presumed he had been put on speaker when Wes spoke this time with a slight echo, _“Does Blaine want us there?”_

“He doesn’t know I’m calling. And let’s be real here, do you think he would ask if he did?”

A poor reflection of David’s usual laugh filtered down the phone, _“He has a point.”_

 _“I don’t know, Kurt…”_ Wes’ voice was barely audible.

“Look.” Kurt stated bluntly, “You two are his best friends, and although he’s my boyfriend, you’ve known him for longer, and you knew his dad. Right now, everything is completely changed for him, he’s moving to Lima for god’s sake, so even if you two are the worst packers in the freaking universe, I really think you should be here. Because, to be honest, his aunt’s a mess and I’m running out of ways to handle this!” Kurt was very aware by the end of his tirade that his voice had gotten higher and louder as he had gone on. He really hoped Blaine hadn’t heard anything.

There was a pause, and then, _“We’ll be over in five.”_

00000

Kurt, Blaine and Wes threw their hands over their ears as fast as humanly possible in an attempt to block out what was trying to shatter their eardrums. A half terrified grin was plastered over Blaine’s face as he stared at the fourth boy incredulously, “David! There was a reason why Kurt was the first countertenor for the Warblers!”

The four boys were sitting in the middle of Blaine’s room, surrounded by an explosion of stuff. It was mid-afternoon, and what had started as a sombre, very awkward mish-mash of four teenage boys trying to tiptoe around each other and act like they thought they were supposed to act, had rapidly descended into chaos. But it was a good chaos.

Because for the first time in two days, Kurt could watch Blaine smile. There was hurt within the smile, and pain, and a whirlwind of uncertainty, but here, for this one moment his room, he could forget. He could forget that far too soon he would be attending a funeral. He could forget that even sooner he would begin to fall headfirst back into his personal hell of a public school.

David shrugged with a mock-disappointed air, “So does this mean I can’t sing Defying Gravity for Sectionals?”

“ _No!_ ” And Wes’ sheer horror was enough to spark another smile.

Kurt patted David’s knee, “Seriously, sweetie, stick to what you know.”

 David pouted, and then leaned back on his elbows as a soft silence fell on the group, broken only by the gentle lull of music that came from Blaine as he plucked randomly on the strings of his guitar. And then, “You guys had better get to Nationals this year.”

Wes and David exchanged uncertain looks, because while they knew that Blaine would not be returning to Dalton this year, no one had dared to even lightly touch on the subject. Much like his dad’s death, they had completely avoided the topic; an unspoken agreement to live in this constructed bubble, if just for this afternoon. And now Blaine had broached it.

Seeing the other two boys faltering, unnoticed to Blaine who just continued to look down at his guitar as he strummed, Kurt tried to rescue them, “Well, the only way that’s going to happen is if you ditch the blazers for the performances, because no way will you make Nationals looking like that. Oh my god - I could totally design costumes for you!”

“Hey! Respect the blazer!” David shot back.

Wes snorted, before turning to Blaine more seriously, “We’ll make it to Nationals. And then we’ll kick New Directions, and your ass with it.”

Blaine looked up, his fingers stilling on the strings, “What?”

“Well, you’ll be joining McKinley’s Glee Club, right?” David prompted.

Kurt waited with baited breath, because for a second, he thought that they had pressed out of their little bubble a little too far. Any moment it was all going to come crashing down, mask falling back into place, cold emptiness swelling back up. But Blaine just looked between his best friends, and then to Kurt, and back to Wes, before shrugging, “I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I’m a Warbler…”

Wes smiled sadly, “Always, just like Kurt. But I think you should. Things have changed, a lot. But you don’t have to let it all be bad.” He paused, and seemed to have a brief internal debate with himself, before continuing softly, “Your dad never missed a Warbler performance. I remember how insanely happy he was when they announced we got through to Regionals last year. I’m not saying you should do it for him or anything like that, but Blaine, you’re one of the best performers we ever had. The Warblers knew it, your dad knew it. You shouldn’t have to give all that up…” He trailed off, uncertain that he’d stepped too far, way too soon, and all three boys watched Blaine’s face with trepidation.

Blaine didn’t answer. He didn’t know how. So he just looked back down at his guitar, his fingers moving of their own accord again, picking up a nonsensical rhythm, letting the notes drift as he simply shrugged.

David rapidly found a solid change of topic and distraction by exclaiming in horror at Blaine’s DVD collection.

00000

It was Sunday evening when the first cracks truly started to tear open. It was also the first day since _It_ had happened that Blaine hadn’t been able to see Kurt. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to, or even that Kurt hadn’t offered, but Aunt Sarah had been clear. To start with, she had wanted to get Blaine properly set up in his room, even if that had only meant unpacking clothes into the chipped dresser and trying to make the sofa bed look slightly more like an actual bed and less like a sofa. Sarah hadn’t been able to hire a van to fetch actual furniture until the following weekend, so until then Blaine was making do.

She was trying. He knew that. He really did.

But seriously, there was only so much he could take.

Okay, so maybe it was entirely irrational to be annoyed when she had said that his socks should go in the bottom drawer rather than the top where he wanted them.

And it might seem really bizarre to someone outside of Blaine’s own brain to make a jump from socks, to McKinley, but it just sort of happened. The resentment just kept turning it over and over in Blaine’s head until they were sitting down to dinner and it all just broke out.

“Don’t you think you should wait a while?”

“No. Why? I’d be starting Dalton even earlier if I was still going there.”

Sarah sighed tiredly, “Yes, Blaine, but that was before. Don’t you think this is a little early? I’ve barely even begun arranging the funeral…”

In hindsight, perhaps his aunt’s use of ‘ _I’ve_ ’ instead of _‘We’ve’_ was probably another pretty big factor…

“It’s my senior year! If I want to get into college I need to get good grades, and it’s going to be even harder to get anywhere now I’ll be coming from McKinley! I want to start back next week. I _will_ start back next week, even if I have to enrol myself!”

“Honey, you should give yourself time. You need to grieve. You’re not thinking-”

It probably hadn’t helped his aunt’s cause that she had, completely obliviously, used the same term of affection that Kurt had been habitually using since _It_ happened. And then she had made the final mistake – she had told him to grieve. Which was basically, in Blaine’s view, as good as telling him that she thought that he wasn’t thinking enough about his dad, that he was being _selfish._

Blaine hadn’t known before that moment that it was possible to raise his voice while simultaneously feel like a hand was clutching about his throat and squeezing hard. He didn’t yell, because he didn’t know his aunt well enough for that, but he got as close as his hardwired politeness would allow, much like with his and Kurt’s first argument in the Lima Bean. “You have no right to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be doing! I _love_ my dad! And he died! So don’t you _dare_ tell me that I need to grieve, because I’m not giving _you_ instructions! I’m going back to school as soon as I can. I’m going to join Glee Club, and get great grades, and win Nationals, and graduate, and _get into college_.” Blaine narrowed his eyes, and his inbuilt instinct told him that turning away from this argument would be the best for everyone, but he had to have the last word. He steadied himself with a breath, spitting his final words out bitterly, “I’m sorry if that doesn’t all live up to your expectations of how I’m supposed to _‘grieve’_.”

Sarah could only watch as her nephew stood up from the table with a jolt, turned heel and strode away. She listened to him go upstairs, and was actually quite surprised that he refrained from slamming his door. Part of her wanted to follow him up, but a larger part knew that she needed to let things cool down for a while.

She sighed heavily and rubbed at the tendons in her shoulders in an attempt to loosen some of the tension that had been building since this hell began. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced them away. How had she ended up solely responsible for Derek’s only child? Because there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was every bit her brother’s son.

The way Blaine’s voice had grown cold and jarring, before he just discontinued the argument altogether by leaving the room…

Derek had always done that when they were kids. He had always taken the old adage of ‘just walk away’ to the extreme – something that had made it infuriatingly impossible to win an argument, and even worse just to participate in one with him.

Sarah sighed, her skin itching, unable to deal with inaction for any longer. She tentatively made her way up the stairs to Blaine’s room, knocking gently on the door before pushing it open.

He was sitting on the edge of the pulled out bed, elbows on his knees, shoulders slumped and head bowed as his gaze remained trained on his folded hands. Sarah asked quietly, “Can I come in?”

Blaine sighed. It sounded so similar to her late brother’s method of diffusing any residual tension he felt that it made Sarah flinch. “Sorry, Aunt Sarah. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

Sarah took that as the best invitation she was likely to get, and walked to sit down next to Blaine, the bed sagging slightly, “Don’t apologise, please Blaine.”

“Sorry.” The slip made them both smile cautiously.

Silence reigned for a while, before Sarah broke it, choosing her words carefully. “You’re going to need to help me out here, Blaine. I know that the last few days haven’t been easy, and it’s only going to get worse before it gets better, but I need to be able to be there for you. I need you to talk to me about things, because I’m new at this, and not a mind-reader.” Sarah gently reached over, laying a hand over her nephew’s clasped ones. For perhaps the millionth time in three days, Sarah was hit with a stab of guilt, and wished she had made more of an effort to see her brother and his son while Derek had still been alive.

Blaine simply shifted his grip slightly, his fingers entwining to hold onto hers. And then, in a barely audible breath he mumbled, “I wish Dad was here.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”


	6. Chapter 6

The beginning of the week was hell for Kurt. Every waking minute he was at school, sitting in class, listening to teachers trying to get him to pay attention, was one minute too much. He couldn’t concentrate, he couldn’t stop checking his phone every three seconds, and he couldn’t get Blaine out of his head.

Worst of all, he was actually jealous. And what kind of person did that make him?

He wasn’t jealous of Blaine, of course. He was jealous of Wes and David. Because thanks to Dalton’s later school start, they were still completely free to be there for Blaine, to keep him company, to help him through this horrible first week. And he _knew_ it was stupid. Beyond ridiculous, but he just couldn’t stop. They were Blaine’s best friends, they were _Kurt’s_ friends, but at the same time, they were able to be there, when Kurt, Blaine’s _boyfriend_ , couldn’t be.

He knew he should be glad that Blaine had someone other than his aunt to keep him company and away from his own thoughts – because Kurt knew how bad it could be just to dwell in silence, especially for a person as sociable as Blaine.

The only time Kurt had been able to see him had been for an hour on Monday afternoon once school had let out. And even then, it had only been at the Lima Bean, personal and impersonal at the same time. Kurt had left the place feeling even more like an inadequate boyfriend than when he had arrived.

He just felt so useless, so pointless, and it might have all been in his head, but it just seemed as if Wes and David just knew what to do, what to say, how to be there. And Kurt was just afloat in a sea of confusion and awkwardness.

It was, perhaps, all of these thoughts – however unfounded they might actually be – that had led to Kurt hugging Quinn Fabray for all he was worth.

“So, is that a yes?” Puck asked as the pair of them pulled apart, Kurt’s eyes swimming with unshed tears, while Quinn just smiled softly.

Kurt had been called to an ‘Emergency Meeting’ of New Directions in the choir room after classes on Tuesday. Why they had decided to give Rachel the power trip of captaincy again was a little beyond him, but at least all the glee kids had turned up.

Unbeknownst the Kurt, the glee club had been at even more a loss that he was. Every time they had tried to be positive, maybe to think up an idea for that week’s assignment, they had just fallen flat back into depression. It had started when Finn had told them all about Blaine’s imminent transfer, and how they realised that ‘Kurt’s Boyfriend’ was about to become ‘Their Friend’, and all that entailed.

So it just hadn’t seemed right to breeze through as if nothing was happening, to make Blaine feel welcome by just acting as if nothing was wrong at all, like a few of them had suggested.

And then Quinn, of all people, had put forward an idea. She had said it quietly, mildly hostilely, and with an air that was designed to make her seem aloof. But she was Quinn, and their friend, so they all really knew what she was trying to express.

As soon as she had said it, it had been as if a light switch had been flipped, and they all realised just how much _they_ needed this, and if it helped Blaine feel a little less out of place, a little less awful, then all the better. All that was left was to run it by Kurt, because there was no way they were going to go ahead without him.

“Yes. I think it’s perfect.” Kurt gave them all a watery smile, “ _Thank you._ ”

Mike grinned lopsidedly, “Don’t thank us yet – we’ve only got until Thursday afternoon to get this down perfectly.”

“Yeah, well we’ve kicked competition ass on less.” Santana asserted, but not without throwing Rachel a side-long pointed look of ‘I-Still-Haven’t-Forgotten-About-That-Nationals-Kiss-Yet’ that made the diva blush.

Rachel recovered quickly, clapping her hands together and putting on that infuriating tone that usually made Quinn want to hurt her, “Alright guys, let’s get started!”

00000

“Kurt!” Sarah smiled wanly at her nephew’s friend, her arm still gently hooked around Blaine’s shoulders in a slightly failed attempt to give him some support, “You just finished class? We were just in with Principal Figgins.”

“Yep, all done for the day, Mrs Fielding. Hey Blaine. So, are you all finished up here now?” He had known Blaine would be here today for registration, the idea being that they would get all the preparations sorted for the transfer before Blaine started on Monday. Kurt desperately wanted to step forward and hug Blaine, but his aunt’s arm would be in the way, and Kurt had yet to broach the subject of whether she knew about their relationship yet.

Blaine nodded tightly, “Yeah. All done. I’ll be a constant presence from Monday onwards.”

“That’s great!” And if that wasn’t the _worst_ attempt at false happiness then Kurt didn’t know what was. “Are you free, then? Only, I have something I want to show you. I can drive you home after?”

Sarah shrugged, looking to Blaine, “Up to you. I have to pick up some things from the office anyway, and dinner’s not till seven.”

Blaine smiled then, “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Okay, well, I’ll see you at home then. Lovely seeing you again Kurt.”

Kurt nodded, and as she disappeared around the corner, he used the empty after-school corridors as an opportunity to capture his boyfriend’s hand in his own, never tiring of the now familiar act. They walked silently in the direction of the auditorium, until Blaine mumbled, “I’ve missed you. Like, _so much._ D’you think that’s wrong?”

Kurt was thrown so much into a loop of confusion that he stopped and completely faced Blaine near a set of lockers, “Wrong? Why would that be wrong?”

Blaine shrugged, avoiding eye contact, “I should be thinking about Dad, right? Not us…”

Kurt somehow repressed another sigh, because how many times had they hashed over this same ground? “Blaine, please stop thinking in should be’s and supposed to’s. You’re going to go insane.” He gently reached and caught Blaine’s chin, tilting his head up slightly to capture his lips in a tentative kiss, the thrill of their location spiking through him despite the situation.

He pulled away, and for a split second of panic in the silence, Kurt wondered if he had been wrong to kiss Blaine right now, because that had been the first time since the accident that he had actually initiated anything, preferring to just go with what Blaine was comfortable with. But then Blaine actually grinned uncertainly, not-quite sparkling eyes finally rising to make contact, “You’re amazing.”

Kurt matched Blaine’s expression, “I know. Now, come on, they’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.”

Capturing Blaine’s hand again, Kurt led the way. “What is this about, Kurt?”

Kurt didn’t answer, instead guiding Blaine through the auditorium doors. The stage lights were up, casting calm warmth into the usual darkness. The entire New Directions were on the stage, along with an older man Blaine presumed to be Mr Schuester. Kurt smiled at his boyfriend’s genuine confusion, simply gesturing, “Come on.”

Blaine allowed Kurt to show him to a seat a couple of rows from the front in the middle, and at the same time, Mr Schuester was jumping down off the stage and making his way over to them, “Hi, Blaine. May I sit here?”

Blaine shrugged, still really quite confused, because while he knew Kurt, and was almost certain that he was about to watch the New Directions perform, he was still a bit perplexed as to why they were all just wearing their normal street clothes, when Kurt had always loved telling him about their various outfits. And then his inherent politeness decided to step in and save him from painful awkwardness, “Sure, by all means.”

Will grinned easily. He knew all about Blaine, and what his arrival would entail for all the glee kids. He could only hope that he was able to help him as much as he needed, because no child should have to go through suddenly losing a parent like Blaine was. As he sat down, Kurt gave Blaine a quick peck on the cheek before hopping up on stage with the rest of his friends. Will had no idea what they were going to be performing, only that they had requested that they take that week’s assignment as a complete group number, rather than duets and solos as had been originally planned.

Blaine and Will watched as with almost an unspoken cue, everyone except Puck and Quinn walked forward and sat down on the lip of the stage, legs dangling over the edge, each person evenly spaced out. With a rather pointed gesture and look from Artie, Brittany and Sam helped him out of his wheelchair to sit with them, making him equal and no different to the rest of them, sat together on the stage. It put them at eye level with their small audience.

Puck took a deep breath, hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets, and Blaine had to wonder if the other boy had lost some kind of vote for who would speak. He didn’t know that Puck had very vocally volunteered. “Hey, Blaine. So, until now, you’ve sorta just been Hummel’s boyfriend, but with you coming here and all, we wanted to prove to you that we don’t want you to stay that way. What’s happened to you sucks, man, and we can’t begin to think how you’re dealing with it and shit, but we wanted you to know, we’ve got your back. You’re totally one of us already.”

Quinn took pity on Puck’s fumbling words, and took over, “This week, we were supposed to put together songs that expressed how excited we were about this coming year. How we felt. And nothing really seemed to cut it. Because we know that whatever we feel, it’s nothing compared to you. So, instead, we want to welcome you into the New Directions, and we hope that this says everything we want to say.”

Blaine blinked; his throat tight, and his face set, his still-dry eyes flicking over everyone’s faces. Puck and Quinn sat down amongst their friends, and silence fell on the huge space for a leaden moment, before the first few bars of a lone piano began to fill the hall, joined quickly by more instruments.

And Blaine couldn’t breathe as his eyes found Kurt’s, because he knew that music. He knew this song.

And then clear voices swelled together.

_Five hundred, twenty- five thousand, six hundred minutes._

That was how long it was going to be. Take one turn around the sun and that was how long it was going to take until one year goes by. One year, and you wake up on a date that had been as normal as any other, except now it won’t be. Now it will be the day his dad died.

_Five hundred, twenty-five thousand moments so dear._

Good and bad, right? Because, please, however hard it’s going to be, Blaine knows that whatever happens he is going to sit in that funeral, and he is going to have say goodbye however much it tears his soul apart. But he knows Kurt will be sitting right there next to him.

_How do you measure, measure a year?_

Blaine’s eyes fell on Quinn then, and a hollow sadness in her eyes as her fingers brushed Puck’s in the gentlest of ways, if only for a second. And Blaine knew then that they were singing this song for everyone, because Kurt had told him about Quinn, and how do you measure the first year of the life of your baby, your baby that you will never see?

_In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights._

Take every single one of them, and breathe them in, however much they hurt, however much you can’t believe that you can make it to the next one, because _how_ can you live with this much empty pain?

_In cups of coffee._

And Blaine’s eyes found Kurt’s again, and both of them couldn’t help but actually smile, Kurt through his free-flowing tears. Something so simple, something so banal, and it had twisted its way into becoming one of the cornerstones of their incredible relationship. And Blaine couldn’t even believe that this time last year, he hadn’t even known that this beautiful boy even existed, because now _Blaine_ couldn’t exist without him.

_In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife._

Because wasn’t that what it was? Every waking breath and Blaine felt that he was just waiting for the next. You measure, you count. How much is done, how much you have to go. And in all that, you just don’t know. You just have to hope.

_In five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year in the life?_

One year. One year until they graduate, one year until the whole high school experience is over. Friendships will spilt and dwindle, or else get even stronger for the distance. And how do you count, how do you appreciate that one last year before it’s all gone for good? One last year at Dalton, and Blaine could barely think about how that was _the_ last year – his last year on Earth with his dad.

_How about love? Measure in love._

And if that wasn’t practically radiating from the stage as the mismatched group sang together, at each other, at Blaine. Brittany swayed to the music as it swelled, her blonde hair catching in the light, her little finger snagged with Santana’s. Finn and Rachel threw a grin at each other, and if Sam and Mercedes thought they were subtle, they were sorely mistaken.

_Seasons of love._

It was corny, it was cheesy, but this was the glee club who practically embodied that and made it cool – even if this had yet to be recognised by the rest of the McKinley student body.

And then the voices dulled to backing vocals, and Mercedes began to fill the auditorium with her incredible voice.

_Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes, how do you measure the life of a woman or a man?_

Blaine felt a hand on his shoulder, and was surprised to find it the first contact from an adult that he didn’t resent. Maybe it was because Kurt’s teacher was a complete stranger, or maybe it was because it was so completely undemanding. Will didn’t expect anything from Blaine, just like the glee club, just like Kurt. He was just there.

Puck’s voice took over now, deep and heartfelt, and Blaine’s eyes fixed on Kurt, his body thrumming with the music, and he found that he couldn’t help himself. Kurt could tell, and simply nodded softly, removing one hand from its place in his lap and placing it onto the stage beside him. And Blaine had already stood, gently hopping over the rows in front before he vaulted up onto the stage with Kurt and Finn’s help for leverage.

And everything flipped. He was with the New Directions, on their stage, and it felt like he fitted. As Puck’s solo flowed seamlessly into the chorus, everyone’s upper bodies seemed to buzz with energy as they started to clap, sway and move to their voices, blending into a harmony.

_Remember the year in the life of friends._

And then with Mercedes’ solo voice belting her words over the chorus, Blaine couldn’t help but grin along with everyone else as they got caught up in the joy of the song. He scooted slightly closer to Kurt, throwing his arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder, where Kurt caught his hand as it rested close to his neck, leaning into Blaine side as they sang.

Brittany fully grabbed Santana’s hand and pumped the air with their joined fist, Mike’s body moved like liquid to the rhythm, Finn and Puck grinned at each other from over Kurt and Blaine’s heads, and Sam high-fived Artie as they sang.

_Measure your life, measure your life in love…_

The song ended, all of them breathing hard, all of them grinning, caught up in the moment, feeling the same they always did whenever they instinctively knew that they had nailed a group number together.

Will clapped, a grin on his face, proud of his kids and their new addition.

And it was with that clapping that brought the reality of the song, and the performance, straight to the fore of Blaine’s mind. Because it had felt right. It had helped, if only for a few minutes, in a way that singing with the Warblers wouldn’t have been able to do anymore.

Ever since it had happened, he had felt like he was existing in some sort of twisted limbo. Too different to continue his life from last year, too confused to begin to start anew, to change, when all he wanted to do was cling onto his last memories of his dad and pretend the last week never happened.

It was still going to get worse, but at least in that one brief second, Blaine could allow himself to perhaps believe that he might survive this.

_One week._


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey. Your aunt said I could come up.” Kurt’s murmured voice broke the steady quiet that had been surrounding Blaine the entire morning.

“Hey.” His voice was rough, barely audible. Blaine sat on the makeshift bed, elbows on his knees, hunched over, hands clasped. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the strength to sit up, let alone stand.

Kurt moved gracefully and without further invite, sat down next to his boyfriend, “You ready?”

“No.” Blaine surprised himself, by both his reply, and the catch in his voice. He hadn’t meant to be so honest.

Kurt bit his lip, willing himself to maintain a level of collectedness. Gently, he reached over and laced his fingers into Blaine’s, drawing one of his boyfriend’s hands into his own lap, “You can do this. And I’ll be with you every minute of today, as long as you want me there.”

Blaine looked up for the first time at those words, and Kurt’s stomach lurched to see the sheer silent pain in those eyes; the fear and the helplessness. And then Blaine’s hands moved, his body twisted, and his lips captured Kurt’s desperately, as if he was trying to melt his entire being into the other boy’s, trying to escape. He pulled back slightly, and both boys were left sitting with stammering breaths. “I’ll always want you with me. I don’t think I could do this if it wasn’t for you.” Blaine’s words were said with such anxious conviction that Kurt’s heart settled in his throat, and he had to try really hard to bite back tears. Because if Blaine wasn’t crying, then what right did he have?

Softly, Kurt leaned forwards and returned the kiss, much more chaste and gentle than the last. Purposefully, he squeezed Blaine’s hand. “Okay then. Let’s go.”

They stood as one, and for a moment Kurt broke the contact of their joined hands to straighten out both real and imaginary creases in Blaine’s suit, smoothing a loose curl back into position, straightening his tie. The sheer familiarity and closeness of the gestures didn’t fail to register with either boy, and Blaine found himself leaning into the touch.

When Kurt was satisfied, he recaptured Blaine’s hand and made to draw him towards the door, but he met resistance as Blaine remained unmoving. He turned, questioningly, and was shocked to see an all too familiar expression on Blaine’s face. The same expression he had worn that first time they had sat down to coffee; the Dalton Warbler and the spy. “Are you okay? About today, I mean. Your mom-”

Kurt cut him off right there. However horrible it had been to wake up that morning, to walk past his dad, unable not to think about That Day, his pain was a comfortable dull echo. It would hurt today, yes, of course it would. How could he not think about his mom’s funeral, today of all days? But he had worked through his grief a long time ago, and now it was just an accepted part of him. Today wasn’t about him. Equally, though, he wasn’t going to belittle his relationship with Blaine by replying with a hollow placating dismissal, “I’ll always be reminded of my mom. But I’ve said goodbye. Today is something different. So, just hold my hand?” 

Blaine nodded softly, his gaze dropped to their clasped hands as they hung suspended between them, outstretched, “I am.”

Kurt pulled ever so softly, and this time Blaine obeyed the touch, stepping into the doorway as well, “Then don’t let go. Whatever you feel today, whatever you think people might say if they see us. Don’t worry about any of that, okay? Today isn’t about them – it’s about you and your dad and saying goodbye. And he accepted everything about you, including me. So, only let go if it’s what _you_ want, promise?”

And Blaine hadn’t even realised it, until Kurt said those things. He hadn’t realised that he probably would have instinctively let go of Kurt’s hand as soon as they got outside, as soon as they were at the funeral, surrounded by all those strangers, brought together by one thing – his dad. Because the funeral was already too much to handle, let alone being brave about himself as well.

And he was never so thankful for having such an incredible boy in his life, “Promise.”

00000

That Saturday brought sunshine to the funeral, and a full room of people. But they were just a sea of faces to Blaine. A monochrome blur that just blended into the background, a background that dropped behind bursts of painful colour. The casket, a sheer, jarring brushstroke across the otherwise perfect backdrop; Aunt Sarah, a muted wash at Blaine’s shoulder; Wes and David – here with their smudged out parents – as warming, blended spots against the grey; and Kurt, a vibrant splash of life, despite his black fashion-driven clothes, anchored to Blaine’s own detached greyness by their clasped hands.

The funeral faded in and out like a bad radio, and then the pressure in Blaine’s hand increased, and there was a feather-light touch on his shoulder as Aunt Sarah attempted to pull him out of his daze.

Oh.

He was supposed to say something.

His aunt had offered to read today instead of Blaine when they had been arranging everything, worried that it would be too much for him to handle.

He had coldly shot her down.

And now he just felt overwhelmed. It was too much, too real.

The blank hollowness that had festered within him, since the moment his aunt had called with the news, now flinched against reality as he somehow managed to stand. He felt Kurt’s fingers slacken slightly as he remained sitting, but then Blaine felt a shot of – what? Fear? Horror? Panic? Grief? – and it punched through the emptiness. He tightened his grip on Kurt’s hand to the extent where it was almost painful, and pulled Kurt up with him.

The room was still a blur of grey, and the casket was still a bloody fissure in the canvas at the corner of his sight, but Kurt’s arm was now wrapped tightly around him, Kurt’s fingers were laced firmly in his own, and Kurt’s breath was soft by his ear. He was there.

Warm eyes connected with Blaine’s own, and the gentle spots of colour on the grey became the only things he could, _would_ see. And so he just looked at Wes. He just looked at David. Four rows back, but it was as if his best friends were the only people in the room. There they were, smiling the same sad, understanding smiles as when they had happily befriended that shy boy on his first day at Dalton. The same judgement-free eyes which had watched and encouraged Blaine as he auditioned for the first time. The same encouraging expressions that sat so naturally on the faces of two of the closest people in Blaine’s life.

And so he spoke. He told his best friends things they already knew. He told them about his dad, about how their relationship hadn’t always been the best, but how he would always be _Blaine’s Dad_. He told them about how the world was just grey without him, about how he would miss him, about how he would never forget him, about how he would make his dad proud.

Through it all, the warm eyes held steady with his own, and the light shining next to him leaned on his shoulder and made it damp with silent tears at his words. But his voice kept rhythm, it kept eloquence and calm, and Kurt’s tears remained juxtaposed against his steady words and dry eyes.

00000

They were isolated, and Wes was glad. The wake was taking place at his house – Wes’ parents had been close to Blaine’s dad, introduced through Dalton events and general networking, much the same as David’s parents, and many other of the funeral attendees. The house was large enough to accommodate the people who had showed up, without having the figurative emptiness that Blaine’s house would have had, or the cramped atmosphere that Mrs Fielding’s house would have offered.

Wes, David and Kurt had finally managed to extricate Blaine from increasingly painful-to-watch conversations with people he didn’t know, but who felt they had to accost the dead man’s son at every turn to pay their respects.

It was a nice idea, but Wes didn’t think he could stand one more gentle, placating smile on his friend’s face. David had solved the problem quite succinctly, simply by grabbing Kurt’s arm and saying that they wanted some help in the kitchen, smiling his parent-pleasing smile easily at whoever it was who was talking to Blaine now.

And by grabbing Kurt, Blaine’s death grip on his boyfriend had successfully meant that they got the two for one deal, and Blaine didn’t even have to think about it.

It might have sounded condescending against someone like Blaine, but to be frank, Blaine was simply too polite for his own good sometimes, and as soon as David pulled Kurt, and by proxy Blaine, out into the quiet cool hall away from the press of people, Wes regretted nothing. Blaine’s whole body seemed to slump, and his death grip on Kurt’s hand seemed to loosen to a more comfortable, relaxed hold. Kurt smiled gratefully at both Dalton boys, not needing to express his gratitude for their ability just to know how to act in situations like this. He personally hadn’t been able to get over the hurdle of the concept of networking at a damn wake, let alone deal with this level of people. Kurt sighed and kissed Blaine’s temple gently, before looking at the other two boys expectantly.

Wes shrugged, “You looked like you could use a breather – you want to escape up to my room for a bit? Get away from it?”

Blaine smiled gratefully, “That’d be nice.”

David led the way, and Kurt realised just how big Wes’ house really was. Blaine’s old house was sizable, but not especially noteworthy – at least, compared to this. From what Kurt could glean from the people downstairs, Blaine’s dad had sort of been on the cusp of Dalton-esque society. He hadn’t been poor, but had lacked the social clout and connections to really make an impact. Kurt knew that a lot of people downstairs were there not because Blaine’s aunt had invited them to mourn her brother, but because they felt they should show their faces to other people.

And the knowledge of that was enough to show in Blaine, who was clearly even less oblivious than Kurt about these things.

They settled in a random pattern around Wes’ room. David kicked his shoes off immediately, clearly at home, loosened his tie, and promptly sat down on the floor with his back to Wes’ chest of drawers. Wes gestured vaguely at his bed, while at the same time sitting on his desk chair, leaning against the back of the chair with his side, hooking a folded arm over the top. Kurt and Blaine took up the unspoken invitation and sat on Wes’ bed, also toeing off shoes and with Blaine shucking off his suit jacket. For one of the very few moments that day, Blaine felt comfortable enough to release Kurt’s hand, happy just with their position as they sat, cross-legged, Blaine’s left knee touching Kurt’s right, facing their friends.

David was the first one to break the silence with the most obvious comment, though perhaps not one that either Kurt or Wes would have chosen, “I wonder if they all know how creepy they all are. It’s like Stepford down there.”

But David had succeeded, because Blaine actually quirked a little smile. “Dad would’ve found it funny.”

Kurt’s breath caught, because he hadn’t expected Blaine to be so casually blunt, today of all days. Wes, however, seemed to take it in his stride, “I think my parents are torn between laughing and being mortified. I actually saw the Greysons earlier.”

“I think Aunt Sarah’s a little overwhelmed,” Blaine said quietly.

David shrugged, “She’s okay, I think. I saw her with my mom earlier in the kitchen. She got out early, and is less recognisable. You, on the other hand, looked more than a little trapped.”

Blaine sighed, and they could all hear how exhausted he sounded, “Today’s just been really…crap.”

“Horrible,” Wes agreed.

“Awful,” Kurt murmured, recapturing Blaine’s hand as his boyfriend let his head fall onto the taller boy’s shoulder.

“Abominable,” said David, nodding.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow, Wes shook his head, and Blaine actually let out a tiny giggle, which seemed to have accidentally bubbled out with his maelstrom of emotions, “Abominable, David, really?”

David shrugged without remorse, clearly inordinately pleased with himself to have garnered such a reaction, “It’s a good word.”

And Kurt had to wonder why he had ever been jealous of these two and what they had with Blaine, because anyone who had the ability to make Blaine smile, today of all days, was an amazing person in Kurt’s book.

00000

It was late in the evening, and Blaine had finally decided to venture out of his room. He had been on the phone to Kurt since dinner, and now felt slightly guilty and selfish – his aunt had been alone as soon as they had left the wake, but Blaine just hadn’t had the energy to help her with her own grief on top of his own. Uncle Peter had been unable to cut his business trip short to attend the funeral. His company wasn’t particularly lenient, and had refused paid compassionate leave. After all, it was only his brother _in law._..

A dark part of Blaine had to wonder how hard he had tried to get home.

Sure, he had only heard of his dad’s relationship with his uncle through hearsay, and had never really noticed anything amiss at those few family events they had actually attended together. But it still stung. And it was nice to have someone to blame for once. His aunt had been understanding, but also upset. Not at his uncle, Blaine didn’t think, more at his uncle’s boss. It was hard for her, Blaine knew, and even as he thought it he felt all the more guilty. She really hadn’t had anyone with her today. Blaine’s grandparents on his dad’s side were long dead, and there wasn’t really anyone else in their family. At least, no one close enough to be there today. His dad had cut a lot of ties when he had divorced Blaine’s mother.

So now Blaine found himself standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for his aunt to realise that he was standing there. She was just sitting at the small kitchen table, playing with her phone as she turned it over in her hands, clearly having just gotten off her own call – probably with her husband. And then she looked up tiredly and leant back in her chair, one hand scraping her hair out of her face from where it had fallen out of its styling. “Blaine.”

She said his name warmly, and Blaine ghosted a smile at her before taking the unspoken invite to sit down with her, “Sorry I wasn’t much company today.” Might as well just jump right in there and apologise.

Sarah grimaced, and reached across to place her hand over his where it rested on the tabletop, “I didn’t expect you to be. If anything, I was very impressed with you today. Your father raised an incredible man.”

Blaine ducked his head, unsure of how to respond. He had nothing against his aunt, and he was generally good with people, but could this entire situation be any more awkward for the pair of them? On top of the shock, and the grief, and the hurt…they still had to deal with whatever strange relationship they found themselves in.

And then, as the silence stretched, his aunt leant forward to place her elbows on the table, her hand staying where it was as she tilted her head slightly in an attempt to gain eye contact. She looked uncertain, nervous. It was an odd combination of an expression that Blaine had never seen her wear before, “Blaine… I’d like to ask you something. And I want you to be entirely honest with me.”

Blaine did not like that tone. He also really didn’t like that question, and neither did his inbuilt flight or fight response, because he suddenly found himself wishing he had never set foot in the kitchen. But this was apparently his home now, and she was his guardian, and he didn’t really have a choice, so he somehow met her eyes, “Sure Aunt Sarah.”

“Today, at the funeral, and at the wake, I didn’t see Kurt leave your side,” _Oh no… No, please, don’t do this, please, say that you already knew, that Dad told you before he…that this isn’t what you’re about to ask…_ “Blaine, you never let go of his hand, the entire day. I suppose that I just assumed that he was your friend, from the moment that rather rude boy called me on your phone. So that might be my fault. But Blaine…I need to know…are you, I mean, is he-”

Blaine couldn’t stand her fumbling for words, and he couldn’t meet her eyes, “Kurt’s my boyfriend. I’m gay.”

Sarah took a sharp intake of breath, and in a horrible, stomach-plummeting moment, Blaine felt her hand drift a little back from his, so that now only their fingertips connected. There was a pause that Blaine was too cowardly to break into. After what seemed like an age, his aunt asked quietly, “Did Derek know?”

Blaine nodded, still not trusting himself to look up at her, “Yeah. He even met Kurt a few times. It took him a while to get his head round it, but I think he was okay, in the end.”

Blaine was fully prepared for a screaming match. Or for Aunt Sarah to completely jerk her hand away as if he repulsed her. But then her fingertips reached forward again, and this time properly took his hand, “I’m glad he knew. And I like Kurt, he’s a very polite, kind boy.”

Blaine did look up then, his eyes completely disbelieving – she was taking it better than his dad had, “You…you’re not…?” He couldn’t really think of the appropriate word. Angry was probably what he was really searching for, but he didn’t want to offend her.

“Shocked?” Sarah filled in for him, “I’m not sure. I think I might be. Is that why you were bullied? Why Derek moved you to Dalton?”

Blaine shrugged, mumbling, “I thought he’d told you. I didn’t mean to hide; it just didn’t…come up, you know? I’ve not really had to think about hiding my sexuality for a while.”

It was then that something fleeting cast a shadow across his aunt’s face, and she sighed, “Derek didn’t talk to me as much as he used to when we were kids. I knew you had problems at school, I knew about Dalton, and that you were in show choir, and that you got good grades. Christmas card and reunion stuff. I’m sorry, Blaine. I wish we had been closer…before all this.”

Blaine shrugged, “I know. But thanks, anyway. For not freaking out.”

Sarah bit her lip, not entirely sure she _wasn’t_ freaking out, but then sighed again, sounding exhausted, “Blaine, I love my brother. And I love you – we’re the last family each other has. And I won’t lose that. I want to give you a safe home for your senior year. And it’s because of this I have to ask you to do something for me, something that I really wish I didn’t have to ask.”

Blaine looked into his aunt’s face, her eyes pleading, sad and apologetic all at once, “What?” He asked tentatively.

“I need you not to tell Peter that you’re gay. I need you not to have Kurt round as your boyfriend while he’s home.”

Blaine was confused, and if he was honest, slightly scared, “W-what?”

His aunt kept a comforting hold on his hand, “Blaine, I love my husband, but I also know him really well – enough to see his flaws. And I can’t promise you that he will be okay with this part of you. I wish I could, but there’s too much doubt for me not ask this of you. For all I know, he might be entirely okay with a gay nephew, but he also might not. It’s your senior year, Blaine, and I don’t want it to be any more painful, uncomfortable or conflicted than it likely already is. I’m not asking you to lie about who you are-”

“You kinda are…” Blaine interjected jerkily, defensively withdrawing his hand from hers. Hadn’t today been stressful enough?

His aunt dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, before conceding, “Yes, I suppose I am. But I still have to ask. While I cannot say that I am entirely comfortable with you being gay, I know that I can work through it, especially if my brother did. You’re family, like I said. And that is why I’m asking you to do this. All I can offer in return is that you will never have to hide or lie about anything with me, however uncomfortable you might think it would make me feel. I owe you that much. Please, Blaine?”

And Blaine didn’t want to agree, because he felt like it was betraying everything that he had worked to be, everything that he had told Kurt, everything that he had fought his dad tooth and nail for.

But he was just so, so tired. Too much had happened, and he just couldn’t deal with another source of hurt.

So he promised.

He still had another week before his uncle was home anyway, he reasoned, and before that he would have to deal with McKinley on Monday.

He would be okay.

But as he closed his eyes to try and sleep that night, the bright fissure of the casket against the grey canvas of the funeral was still seared into his subconscious. And one week’s worth of shock, trauma and upheaval had reached boiling point.

It was his first sleep after the funeral, after the day that made it all real, when the nightmares began to haunt his dreams.


	8. Chapter 8

“Seriously, Hummel, chill. For the last time, I got this. Now run along and make sure Frankenteen doesn’t burn his toast. We’ll see you at school.” Santana rolled her eyes, thumbing her phone off before Kurt could respond, and walked up the Fieldings’ driveway.

It was a cool but sunny Monday morning, and for reasons unknown to the entire collective of the New Directions, Santana was giving Blaine a ride to school for his first day. And even more of a mystery, Santana had actually _offered_. Or rather, she had point-blank stated that it was what would be happening, which was as close to ‘offering’ Santana Lopez ever really got.

It had only been ‘decided’ the morning before, when Blaine had opened the door to an intensely bored looking Santana, who had just pushed past him, walked straight through to the kitchen and dumped a mysterious casserole dish – it was mysterious because even after eating it that evening, Blaine still wasn’t entirely sure what it had contained – on the sideboard, with nothing more than a “Morning hobbit.”

Blaine had trailed her into the kitchen, still trying to blink himself a state of wakefulness. It was early enough that his aunt was still asleep upstairs, and Blaine was still dressed in an old pair of sweatpants and a Dalton Academy t-shirt – a stark contrast to Santana’s glamorous ensemble. “Morning?”

“My mom cooked this for your aunt. I guess it’s what people do when someone’s died, right?” She had snorted derisively, clearly indicating what she thought of such a gesture, “So, I would stick around and hang, but I gotta meet Britt in ten for breakfast. I’ll call for you around eight tomorrow. I have to leave early enough to pick up Britt on the way, or she ends up getting lost.”

Blaine had just blinked at her some more, before replying with an incredibly eloquent, “What?”

“You live like ten seconds away from me, Anderson. Your boy toy lives on the other side of town. So you’re riding with me. Whatever.” She had shrugged, like it was the most logical thing in the world.

“I have my own car…” Blaine had replied slowly, trying to figure out where all this was coming from.

Santana had given him a spectacular bitchy face, pronouncing slowly as if he was an idiot, “New kid arrives by himself vs. New Kid arrives with two of the hottest most popular girls in school. Don’t be simple, Anderson.” She turned away with a flick of her hair, stalking back out of the house, before casting an even more piercing look on him when she was halfway out the front door, “Hope yesterday wasn’t too crap for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. And I’m sorry about your dad.”

Blaine had somehow managed more than a mumble, the girl’s blunt but refreshing nature clearing his head a little from the cloying feelings still left in his chest from the day before, “Thank you.”

“Tomorrow.” Santana had nodded, and stalked away.

And so now Blaine was fumbling with his bag, running an infuriated hand though his messy hair in a final attempt to make it lie flat, before stumbling ungracefully down the stairs to answer the knock on his door. For the second night in a row, he had woken up from an unremembered nightmare, too jittery and wired to go back to sleep despite having only gotten a couple of hours after staying awake long past midnight, worrying about his first day at McKinley.

He had somehow fallen asleep again around six thirty while reading, had whacked the ‘off’ button on his alarm ten minutes later instead of the ‘snooze’, and woken up again at 7:45am, completely disorientated before jolting up in a panic at seeing the time.

All of this combined made for a really crappy start to what had never promised to be a particularly great day in the first place. He flung open the door to reveal Santana, who simply looked him up and down once, before, “Wow, you look straight.”

“Good morning to you too,” Blaine said irritably. “This is what happens when I sleep in and only have fifteen minutes to get ready.”

Santana just cocked in eyebrow in amusement, a smirk on her face. “Well, you won’t look worse than Berry, but I can’t promise Kurt will be able to handle your straightness.”

Blaine just shrugged with defeat, looking down at himself. He had fallen into the shower, fallen back out, grabbed the first clothes to hand and just about managed to remember his bag and schedule. This had resulted in him wearing a generic pair of jeans –he had worn them yesterday around the house and they had been folded over the back of his chair from the night before – and a bright purple polo shirt that he was almost certain, now he thought about it, actually belonged to Wes from when he had stayed over a couple of months ago, but it had been at the top of his pile of clothes to ‘find a home for in his tiny room’ and he had pulled it on without thought. Add to that the thin light grey zip-hoodie he had grabbed on his way out of the room, and his mournfully unstyled hair, he really could see where Santana was coming from, “I look like I got dressed in the dark.” Blaine sighed in agreement.

Santana nodded, “Like I said, you look straight. Seriously though, is that why you went to a school with a uniform code all these years? God-awful dress sense?”

Blaine rolled his eyes, but privately he appreciated Santana’s refusal to treat him like glass. “Can we just get going?”

“I’ll go pull my car around. You go upstairs and grab something to fix your hair with. It’s too late to do something about your fashion disaster, but Brittany will enjoy a car journey project, and Hummel might have a something to replace your hoodie with in his locker.”

Blaine didn’t know whether to be scared or not, but he obeyed, using the additional time to also grab a cereal bar before jumping in Santana’s car. The ride to Brittany’s house took a little over ten minutes, but somehow being with Santana didn’t feel uncomfortable. And he knew that he should, because Rachel, Kurt, Finn, well _everyone_ was always telling him how difficult Santana could be. So, yeah, she was a bitch, and didn’t mince her words, but right now she was doing the one thing that not even Kurt had been able to help Blaine do. And that was to forget. Just for one second, just forget about why he was in that car, why he was driving to McKinley, why he had been kept awake all night with bone-jarring dreams.

Also? Wes could be a cantankerous ass – David’s words – at the best of times, so Santana wasn’t too much of a shock to Blaine’s system.

Brittany on the other hand? Well, let’s just say that particular car ride was something Blaine was never going to quite get over. It was also not until the point when Brittany jumped into the back seat that Blaine realised that he had never really had prolonged conversation with the blonde. “Sorry I’m late. Lord Tubbington borrowed my curling tongs last night and I couldn’t find them.”

Blaine just looked at Santana, but the girl didn’t even blink, “No worries. Hobbit, time to make you less hobbity. Get in the back. Britt, we need hair surgery.”

“You’re having an operation on your hair? Is that why you weren’t in school on Friday?”

Blaine floundered, “Err…no. This is my first day…”

“God, why do I even bother?” Santana muttered, and Blaine was really perplexed at how her annoyance seemed to be directed at his reply, rather than Brittany’s question, “Anderson, just get in the back.”

Blaine clambered awkwardly between the two seats – he had made to get out the passenger door and get into the back that way, but Brittany had already begun to tug his arm through the gap. He tumbled ungracefully on top of the girl, elbowing himself in the thigh in the process and banging his knee against a seat buckle. Brittany took the whole thing in her stride, physically manoeuvring him into the seat next to her before buckling up into the middle and waiting for Blaine to do the same in the seat directly behind Santana. Brittany smiled, “I read a book about road safety last week after Santana told me about your dad. It had lots of pictures, and everyone who did up their seatbelt smiled. You should smile more, it makes you shine.”

Blaine’s throat caught, because how could anyone be so simplistically, adorably innocent? He caught eyes with Santana in the rearview mirror, and her expression was soft. So he just nodded to the ditsy blonde and let his lips tug into a smile as Santana pulled away, “I’ll try.”

Brittany seemed satisfied with this answer, grabbing the tub of gel from Blaine’s hands, “This is gonna be awesome. The guys _never_ let me do their hair. Well, Kurt doesn’t need to, because his is already so shiny and perfect, and Puck doesn’t _have_ any, and Tina won’t let me near Mike, and Artie’s mom does his, and Sam’s is too bright and hurts my eyes, and Finn can’t dance… but now I have you! And your hair is kinda awesome.”

Blaine was too busy trying to work out how Finn not being able to dance meant Brittany couldn’t style his hair, so he didn’t notice Brittany attacking his scalp until it was too late, and then he just had to sit there and hope the end result wouldn’t add to his crappy morning. So he just sat there as Santana drove the three of them to school, hyperaware that this was possibly the weirdest start to a Monday morning that he had ever had. Still, he found his eyes had drifted shut, and the background noise of the radio and the girls’ chatter washed over him as Brittany gently but surely teased his stubborn hair into co-operating. And once again, the most unexpected company actually helped him forget for all of a second.

“Done!” Brittany finally stated proudly. “I’m awesome. You can say it.”

Blaine opened his eyes to her bright grin, and saw that they were pulling into the McKinley carpark. “We’re here?”

Brittany shook her head, “You’re _supposed_ to say I’m awesome.”

Blaine couldn’t help it, “I’m awesome?”

Brittany frowned, honestly confused, “Of course you are. You let me do your hair.”

He actually laughed, “Okay, give me a mirror.”

Santana pulled into a space and cut the engine before twisting to look at the pair in the back, “Damn, Britt, I would hit that if I had a thing for guys short enough to fit in my purse. Nice.”

“I know, right?” Brittany grinned at Santana, wiping her hands of remaining gel on a tissue from her bag.

Blaine waved his hands, “Right here!”

Santana smirked – with a little bit of a joking leer thrown in – snapping open a compact mirror and directing it at him.

Blaine’s first reaction was sheer relief that she hadn’t pulled it into spikes. The second was a slight adjustment at knowing that he would probably never see his hair styled like it was when he was at Dalton again. If this morning was anything to go by, nothing would be like Dalton again. The third was a second wave of relief that he hadn’t even realised he would feel, it looked nothing like the styled curls he had worn at his old school – or rather, now, his old _old_ school. And fourth, and finally, there was a slight swell of gratefulness, and a boost of confidence, because he had never done his hair like this before. A bit more gel than Dalton, less prep school.

It was new. Just like McKinley. And it was another indicator that he wasn’t the same person any more. But, oddly, most importantly it had been styled by a girl he didn’t know very well, just because she could, because she wanted to, because she liked him. And even as he stepped out of the car and was faced with a cold giant concrete block of a building that looked nothing like Dalton, and way too much like _that high school_ , he actually acknowledged for the first time that this was not a step backwards for him, that it might actually be a step forwards.

Because Brittany had snagged his hand in one of hers, and linked arms with Santana on her other side, obliviously just happy to be with people she liked. And he could see Kurt making his way towards him, two coffees in his hands, one of which he took gratefully.

And with one look, Kurt successfully banished any and all thoughts about the terror of a new school from Blaine’s mind, because he seemed distracted by his boyfriend’s appearance. And Blaine actually found himself blushing with the attention, “It’s a long story.”

“Blaine let me do his hair.” Brittany stated with a grin.

Kurt’s mouth rounded into a small ‘o’, before he quirked an eyebrow, “And the… ‘clothes’?”

Santana snorted as Blaine just looked down at himself again with a sigh, “Even Britt can’t work miracles.”

“Well, I can’t, but Lord Tubbington can walk on water.”

“Ooo-kay… and on that note, we’ll see you guys at lunch.” Santana shrugged, “Laters.”

Brittany grinned as Santana tugged closely on her arm, quickly pecking kisses on both Blaine and Kurt’s cheeks before skipping off.

Kurt shook his head with a smile, before grimacing in sympathy as Blaine took a giant mouthful of what was likely still very hot coffee, “Little bit of a caffeine withdrawal there, Blaine?”

Blaine made a face, partly from the coffee scalding his mouth, and partly from the culmination of the morning’s events, “I could have had a better start to the day.”

Kurt sighed, smiling fondly and nudging Blaine’s shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’ll help you find your locker. And you can tell me why you thought it permissible to turn up wearing…whatever it is you think you’re wearing. Thankfully I always keep a change of clothes in my locker. If nothing else, I’m confiscating that hoodie, the rest I think we can work with.”

Blaine smiled in return.

He could do this.

00000

He couldn’t do this.

The morning hadn’t actually been too bad. The classes weren’t hard, especially compared to Dalton…

It was McKinley. The students. Everything. It was different, but at the same time, all too familiar.

Blaine would be the first person to say that he was much stronger thanks to his time at Dalton, and perhaps if this were under any other circumstances, then he wouldn’t really have too many problems.

But… this.

_One week, three days, nineteen hours-_

The Glee kids were great, and as quite a lot of them were seniors, Blaine hadn’t had any time to be alone as the weird new kid in the corner. He had support, company.

But he had thought he could ignore everything, he had thought he could be normal, or at least, as normal as he had been since It happened.

He had been fine. Literally two minutes ago, he had been half paying attention to their history teacher, and half wondering how long it would take Mike Chang’s elbow to slip off the table as he started to doze next to him.

Maybe it was because the class really wasn’t that interesting, maybe it was because he had covered this stuff all last year, maybe it was because he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.

Maybe it was just inevitable.

It had started with his mind wandering, and quickly spiralled to completely ignoring what was happening in class, his eyes trained on his desk as his gaze was unseeing, too lost in thought to really register his surroundings.

A twisting feeling, and a pricking in his throat, and the same itching, crawling sensation under his skin as when he had first stood alone in his new bedroom returned full force. His breath stuttered, and it just hit him.

Like, _really_ hit him, right there, in the middle of a mundane history lesson.

His dad was dead. This was his life now.

He had known it before this moment, but it had never been reality to Blaine. It had never sunk in.

And it was an indescribable sense of loss. Or loneliness, of hopelessness and terror.

He will never see his dad again.

He felt tiny, lost, panicked.

He couldn’t breathe. The classroom was suddenly way too much to handle.

He needed to get out of here.

Blaine was on his feet without conscious thought, chair scraping back and jolting Mike awake.

“Blaine?” The teacher seemed confused, “Sit down please.”

Blaine wasn’t even listening. He just needed to get out of there, somehow mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t look at anyone as he fled the classroom. He didn’t want to see them staring at him. He didn’t want to watch his inevitable labelled persona form in their minds; _weird loner new kid with issues, think he’s like an orphan or something. Yeah, heard he was dating that homo Hummel…_

Blaine’s feet moved at considerable speed, somehow finding the quickest route to the outside despite not really knowing where on earth he was in relation to any of the classrooms he knew.

He slumped down against a brick wall as soon as he got out the doors, sun and fresh air hitting his face.

He recognised where he was. This was where he had sung _Somewhere Only We Know_ , when his life had been his boyfriend, Dalton and the Warblers.

With the fresh air came a slight form of clarity. His breathing felt freer, easier. His mind felt less chaotic.

But that didn’t make him feel any less tiny, any less lost.

He wrapped his arms around his middle, bringing his knees up, letting the silence of the empty courtyard fall onto his shoulders. And in that moment, he was hit with a sharp bolt of a question, a question he had refused to let himself ask before now.

Why was his life so unfair? Why did everything bad seem to happen to him?

There was a scuffing of sneaker soles on concrete, and a slim body folded itself down next to him, placing his bag on the ground near his feet, “Hey man. You ran outta there kind of fast. You left your stuff.”

Blaine didn’t look up at Mike, his gaze still fixed unseeing on his knees, “You should be in class.”

Mike shrugged, “Nothing I can’t read about later. I’m like the perfect student; Walker won’t do anything to me.” He shifted slightly, making himself comfortable next to Blaine. “You looked freaked.”

“Sorry.” Blaine really didn’t know why he was apologising for things any more. It just seemed to be reflex nowadays.

Mike just shrugged, leaning his head back against the rough brick, “Things can get too much sometimes. I get that.”

Blaine still felt lost, he still felt tiny, but Mike was also now just _there_ , and he was so relaxed, so comfortable just to sit in Blaine’s peripheral vision and not really do anything, not really push anything. Just be there. The choking hold around his chest loosened slightly. “I guess it just all hit me.” He had no idea why he had even said anything, whispered as it was.

Mike didn’t offer any empty words. He didn’t pretend to understand. He didn’t even move to make some sort of placating contact.

He just sat there next to Blaine in the silent courtyard, keeping him company until the bell rang to warn of the imminent flood of students, “You want to go back in there and find the others for lunch, or you wanna bail?”

Blaine wanted to bail, he wanted to run far away and never think of anything again. But where would he go? To an empty house on the other side of a town he didn’t even really know? And without a car, he faced hour’s walk filled only with his thoughts.

Or he could go to an hour with Kurt and his friends. With Brittany’s glowing smile and Santana’s practiced indifference. With Finn’s easy-going banter and Mike’s chilled out presence. With the electric energy of New Directions. With distraction.

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck before standing up and grabbing his bag, “Thanks.”

Mike grinned lopsidedly, “Anytime, man. Food?”

Gathering himself with a deep breath, Blaine somehow got himself back into the present. There was still a band around his chest, there was still the reality of everything seared into his brain, but the lesser of two evils would at least give him a way to escape his thoughts, even for a little while, so he nodded, “Food.”

00000

Mike and Blaine found their significant others, as well as Mercedes and Sam, already sitting down with a table to themselves. Tina smiled up at her boyfriend as he sat down with his tray, rubbing her hand affectionately up his arm, “Hey. I thought we were gonna meet outside your class?”

Mike shrugged, his eyes glancing to Blaine for a second before smiling at Tina, “Got out early.”

Tina knew they didn’t – she knew they had in fact gotten out slightly late, because the door had still been shut when she had arrived, and she had watched as the history students had finally filed out. Neither Mike nor Blaine had been among them. But she had seen her boyfriend’s brief glance, and she had recognised his slight melancholy expression, so she just grinned, “Lucky for some – I swear, I am actually waiting for something to explode in Chem now – the _only_ way it’ll ever be interesting. You wanna hang out after football practice tonight?”

Mike and Tina’s conversation bled into the background for Kurt, who was way more interested in checking Blaine over for the slightest sign of dishevelment or slushy. Blaine in turn was too busy defending his plate from Sam, who had decided that he really wanted some of Blaine’s fries, “Mine were cold! Yours just got put out!”

Mercedes laughed, “Here, baby, you can have some of mine.”

Sam gave a stupid grin, and even Kurt had to stop in his examination of his boyfriend to stare, “Wow. You guys must be serious.”

“Very funny…” Mercedes rolled her eyes, but her face was still glowing with a pleased smile.

“Kurt, seriously – stop worrying. I haven’t had any encounters, I promise. It’s been an okay morning.” Blaine sighed, but there was a fondness to his tone, and he was glad he had decided to stay rather than take the long walk home. Mike glanced his way again, but surrounded by all these people, Blaine felt the exact opposite of what he had in history. The banter and dynamics just felt so alive, so positive and carefree, that the suffocating feeling haunting him seemed to have retreated slightly.

 Kurt pierced him with one of his looks, and Blaine was pretty sure that his boyfriend knew there was something in the way he and Mike had arrived together. “You would tell me if you did, though, right?”

Blaine smiled softly, “Of course I would. No dumb jocks have been in my morning. Except for Finn – have you ever had a class with him before? Because…yeah…”

Kurt laughed then, and Blaine remembered how much he loved to hear his boyfriend’s laugh. It was almost like laughing himself. He scooched closer to Kurt, leaning slightly against his side. It was a gesture of affection that Blaine had started almost instinctively doing with Kurt since the summer. He was a very touchy person when it came to people he was comfortable with, and being in physical contact with Kurt just made him feel relaxed.

It was so instinctive, that Blaine didn’t even realise how that tiny action had caused an explosion of panic in Kurt’s head. Because Kurt’s instinctive response to Blaine leaning against him was usually to shift his arm, and rest his palm on the small of Blaine’s back so that the pair of them were still just sitting, but with their sides pressed against each other.

 The habit wasn’t especially cuddly, but it was _definitely_ relationship-y. And around their friends from New Directions and Dalton, it had never been an issue.

But they were in _McKinley_.

This panic only lasted in Kurt a beat of a second, however, because it was very quickly followed by a rush of determination and stubbornness.

Blaine was his boyfriend, and McKinley was going to have to deal with it sooner or later.

So he simply slipped his arm half around Blaine like usual and kept on delicately munching his salad, as Brittany dropped down next to them and struck up a… conversation? Could you call it that when it was with Brittany?... with Blaine. And then Rachel arrived and stole Kurt’s attention, but his hand remained where it was, and Blaine remained against his side. Just like Tina sat with Mike’s arm around her shoulders, and Sam inhabited Mercedes’ personal space without care as they chatted about something.

Kurt knew that something had happened that morning with Blaine, and he knew that Blaine wasn’t okay. He wasn’t going to ignore it.

But just for that moment, he allowed himself to bask in the fact that his arm was around his beautiful boyfriend, and the McKinley student body wasn’t rioting.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine had always prided himself in being very self aware. He had always been conscious of how his actions could affect and influence other people, of how he appeared on the outside.

But apparently, there is a terrifying differentiation between being aware, and actually giving a crap. Of being in control.

Because Blaine had always known, especially when dealing with the adults and figures of authority in his life, how he should act, no matter however differently he wanted to.

It was a rule he rarely broke, and even then, only when confronting his dad.

Because other adults are essentially strangers, no matter how kind and caring they act. They have an element of power, of unpredictability. It was something that had always controlled Blaine’s words, held back any revealing expressions, helped create the perfect, hardworking teenager and student.

In a very detached way, Blaine knew all these things about himself. He knew he was one of those kids who was a split personality when it came to dealing with adults and kids his own age.

And, in a very detached way, he knew he was being ridiculous. He knew he wasn’t being himself. He _knew_ what he should be saying, how he should be acting.

But he just couldn’t do it. His words were getting kidnapped en route from his brain to his mouth and being replaced by imposters. His nerves scraped themselves down a blackboard in his stomach, catching at his breath and boiling into an unnameable need to move, to act, to get away and ignore.

He shrugged – for about the tenth time in five minutes.

He scowled – he’d never done that to someone who was being kind before, and never when an _adult_ was being kind.

He folded his arms across his chest, and shifted in the chair, almost vindictively _enjoying_ the woman’s clear discomfort.

She sighed, nervously shuffling the pamphlets in front of her to give her hands something to do, “Okay then, Blaine, why don’t you tell me why you left Mr Walker’s class yesterday?”

A change of tact. She had clearly decided she had skirted around the issue for a socially acceptable amount of time.

Inside, Blaine pulled on a charming, soft, sad smile, and assured her that he had just been a little overwhelmed, but he was okay now.

Outside, Blaine shrugged, for the eleventh time, his eyes fixing brutally at a single point on the edge of Miss Pillsbury’s desk as he refused to meet her wide-eyed caring gaze, “I don’t know.”

Three syllables, but a tiny residue of Dalton-Blaine was looking on the bright side of a bad situation – at least he hadn’t dissolved completely into just a ‘ _dunno’_.

“Blaine, it’s okay to not be ready. A lot has happened to you in a really short space of time-”

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was bitter as he cut across the McKinley guidance counsellor and her placating words.

Cut across her? What was _wrong_ with him?

But he just couldn’t help it.

He just couldn’t handle this anymore.

Teachers, teachers who look at him with so much pity, because he’s just another one of _those kids_ , another one of those footnotes at the bottom of their class lists.

His aunt’s constant yo-yo’ing between a strange sort of smothering-hovering and an awkward silence.

Her request that he pretend to be straight.

Her conversation on the phone with Peter last night. A conversation he wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t crept past her bedroom to get himself a drink of water at one in the morning because he _still_ couldn’t sleep. A conversation, where she had voiced the one thing that had been eating away at Blaine’s thoughts since the funeral.

Because what if something was wrong with him?

_It’s just…I don’t know what to do, Peter. I just can’t talk to him; and he’s already back at school! The funeral was only two days ago, for goodness sake. I don’t think he’s even cried…_

I don’t think he’s even cried…

Six words – that stuck in Blaine’s throat; that cast an iron band around his chest; that bled into his ever multiplying but still unremembered nightmares.

And all Blaine wanted was to surround himself with his friends, to bury himself in Kurt.

To smile, to forget – even if just for a second – to feel warm and wanted and safe.

Forget.

A very, very deep and well hidden part of Blaine knew that this was not healthy. That using Kurt as a buffer against reality was not going to help Blaine in the long run.

But right now, it was the only thing he wanted to do. The only thing that made him feel like he could _breathe_.

And just being here, in this designed-to-be-unthreatening-and-comfortable office, being asked these questions by a person who, let’s face it, was being paid to talk to him, was just something Blaine did not want to do.

Hence the shrugging, sullenness, and the arguably petulant behaviour.

“Can I go now? I’m late for first period.” He’d finally made eye contact with that one, and watched as the small woman realised that she was fighting a losing battle for today.

Waiting for her to write him a note, Blaine was smothered with the usual counsellor spiel of doors being open and ears to talk to.

Something that, she also informed him, she wanted to make a weekly thing.

Brilliant.

And it may not have been healthy, or good for him in the long term, but when he finally _did_ get out of that damn room and slip into a seat next to Kurt in who-cares-what-class, Blaine completely forgot his sullenness and scowling.

He forgot that his chest was so tight that he felt like he was suffocating. He forgot that he was exhausted from nightmares and lack of sleep. He forgot that sometimes all he could feel was terror and being lost.

He just let himself scribble notes, thinking only of how the whole time his hand was entwined with his boyfriend’s under the desk.

00000

Kurt knew that when it came to dealing with problems, he and Blaine had severely different reactions.

If Kurt was having an argument with someone he cared about, he would stand his ground, his emotions ranging from bitchy to very vocally pissed.

_Blaine would shut everything down with a few sharp cold words, and walk away. Get as far away as possible._

If Kurt was having an argument with someone he hated or was scared of, he was erratic, but mostly he would stay back out of the way of potential contact. Or worse, freeze.

_Blaine would confront, inhabit personal space and not stand down. One time he had actually lashed out, despite his size difference with Karofsky, and Kurt had almost had a heart attack._

If Kurt was upset, he shirked physical contact – although sometimes he let his dad be the exception to that rule – and kept to himself in his own personal space until he was ready to talk or reconnect.

_Blaine needed to touch, to hold. He was a tactile person at the best of times, but when he was upset, it was like he needed that physical contact as an anchor to his thoughts, even if he wasn’t ready to talk about them yet._

These flips of a coin in their personalities were part of why Kurt thought they worked so well together. The fact that Blaine was so different from him was a big factor in why Kurt fell for him in the first place.

And part of Kurt was terrified, he really was, because ever since Blaine had come in late to class earlier that morning, Kurt could not have been more hyper aware of how much like a couple they were acting.

Even at Dalton, they had toned down outward displays of PDA, because Blaine understood that Kurt could still be quite reserved when it came to things like that.

But today, all day, everything had to be _contact_ for Blaine. And more than just a hug or a brush of fingers. They were breathing each other’s personal space, and Kurt was letting it happen. Because he loved Blaine, and he knew that something was really wrong, even if he was all small smiles and happy conversations.

At lunchtime, Finn had actually pulled Kurt aside in a moment when Brittany had snagged Blaine’s attention by sitting on his lap.

 “Dude, you know I’ve got your back, and Blaine’s, but there’s only so much the Glee guys can do…”

Last year, Kurt would probably have kicked off at Finn, but however much it hurt him to admit, he was worried too, so Kurt had simply raised an eyebrow, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Azimio,” Finn had shrugged simply.

“I’m not going to stop holding Blaine’s hand because some Neanderthal can’t cope with who we are.”

And then Finn had come out with something incredibly basic, and incredibly true, “Yeah, and if this were any other time, I wouldn’t ask you to. I’d never mention it, because, well, we’ve done this, we’ve covered it, and it’s old news, and I’m totally cool with you being you and sticking it to McKinley. But do you really think Blaine needs Azimio on top of everything else right now?”

Finn had not said it accusatorily, as if Kurt didn’t know what was best for his boyfriend, he had not said it scathingly, as if Blaine was bringing all this potential hurt on top of them.

He had said it with worried, puppy dog eyes, hunched awkward shoulders, with genuine concern for his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

Kurt had only been able to sigh in reply, conceding Finn’s point but completely unable to do anything about it. “Today’s just not a good day.”

Only Kurt had no idea why.

Finn had seemed to understand, and Kurt had once again been struck by how much he loved having a brother. “Mom’s working late shift, and I think Burt said that he wouldn’t be home till six. I’ll go round Puck’s after school.”

00000

 There was a before, an after, and a _now_.

Before either said those three important little words, when they kissed there was such joy. A tentativeness that was shocked through with a spark and a flash, electricity and stars.

After, when they kissed, there was such love. A love that had swelled to shore them, encompassing with fire and heat.

Now, when they kissed, there was such sad joy, and such deep love, with sparks of electricity and swells of heat. But there was also a need to touch, to feel, to hold on with a desperate fear that this could end any second.

Somewhere along the line, between inviting Blaine round that afternoon, to driving to Kurt’s house, they seemed to have wordlessly agreed not to talk about what was going on just yet.

Because as soon as they got up to Kurt’s room, Blaine had caught his arms, his eyes connecting unblinkingly with Kurt’s for just one second, and even Kurt couldn’t could the amount of emotions that swam and fought together there in that one tiny moment.

And Kurt had just wanted to kiss all that pain away.

His lips caught Blaine’s, gentle but firm, trying to convey everything in just that one action. Blaine’s entire body seemed to relax as he let the pent up stress bleed away, and he deepened the kiss, more urgent and desperate, as if this was it, as if this would only _ever be it_.

Kurt took two stumbling steps backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, the kiss only broken in brief instances and sharp breaths, Blaine leaning down over him before ending up on the bed sitting next to him, hand woven in Kurt’s hair, fingers grazing Kurt’s waist.

And everything was so quick, way more intense than their usual slow make out sessions, a combination of recent events and the self-imposed lack of contact brought on by said events driving their actions. Kurt twisted, fisting one hand in Blaine’s shirt and using the other to pull Blaine down onto his bed completely.

And then Blaine broke the kiss, and for perhaps only the fifth time in their relationship – because way back to the beginning, it had taken Kurt a lot to get past those first few physical hurdles – their fingers fumbled with clothes until Kurt’s shirt was unbuttoned and Blaine’s t-shirt had made it over his head.

And they were connected again, skin on skin, electricity, heat and desperation.

And somehow, in their flushed movements and sharp breaths, Blaine found himself lying flat back on the bed, staring up at Kurt directly over him. His boyfriend’s clear eyes captured his own, and Blaine was suddenly _so aware_.

Kurt supported himself with his arms either side of Blaine, one bent up supporting his weight against the bed next to Blaine’s head, fingers tangled in his hair, with the other hand ghosting against Blaine’s waist.

And lying there, breath coming short and sharp and ragged as Kurt caught his mouth again, chests pushed flush, legs entangled, Blaine felt the desperation give way to another feeling.

Safe.

Kurt pulled up, his lips red and swollen, and Blaine breathed, “I love you, so much.”

And Kurt smiled, unsure where this side of him was coming from, but liking it, liking how he alone was able to do this for – _to_ – Blaine. He didn’t shift from his position over the other boy, but he sensed the desperate need become tempered by something else, something more. Softly, he bent down and kissed the tip of Blaine’s ear, replying softly, “I love you too, Blaine.”

Tempo slowed, and for these few moments, their lives were on pause, as Blaine arched into Kurt’s lingering kisses down along his collar bone, and Kurt let Blaine’s tongue explore his mouth.

And finally, finally, they were lying almost side by side, facing each other much as they had on that first night, when Blaine had slept in Kurt’s bed on the worst day of his life. _Almost_ side by side, because Kurt’s leg was hooked gently over Blaine’s, and his arm rested softly over Blaine’s bare chest, tracing spidery patterns absently, while Blaine’s arms curled loosely around Kurt’s waist.

Eye to eye, and finally, Blaine said exactly what Kurt had been waiting these past few days to hear, amongst the hand holding, and the touches, and the shoulder bumps and the brief pecked kisses.

“Do you think we can talk? About everything… I just… yeah…” Blaine didn’t break eye contact, but his face shifted slightly closer to Kurt’s and his eyes held earnest.

And Kurt leant that last little inch, and kissed Blaine’s forehead. “I’m listening.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's it going? Hope everyone's enjoying the daily installments :) Extra warning for homophobic slurs in this one, which will continue into the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

Kurt had somehow bitten his tongue the entire time and just listened to Blaine talk. He had somehow kept a steady gaze on Blaine’s face, even when Blaine cast his own eyes down. He had simply kept up the gentle ghosting of his fingertips over Blaine’s bare chest; comforting and reassuring.

_Suffocating._

_Alone._

_Lost._

_Broken._

That last one had really got to Kurt, and he had not been able to stop himself from stilling his fingers’ movements and reaching with his other hand to clasp Blaine’s cheek, stoking it gently with his thumb, waiting for Blaine to look up at him again as the other boy’s words stuttered out in a barely audible mumble, “I mean…there must be something wrong with me. What kind of person doesn’t cry when their own father dies? I’ve tried. I have. But…I just…can’t. Not even when-”

He jerked to a halt, cutting himself off for yet another time that afternoon, his train of thought jumping. Kurt remained quiet, waiting for Blaine to pick it up again.

“I can’t sleep. I wake up from these…dreams…every night. And I can’t remember what they’re about, but they’re as close as I get to crying. Because for a second, I just can’t _breathe_.” A horrible bitter smile snaked across Blaine’s face, “God, I’m such a basket case… I’m just so freaking tired, all the time… Everything’s just…” He sighed, unable to vocalize himself.

Kurt sighed and pulled Blaine closer, nuzzling his forehead against Blaine’s, his wordless actions melting that horrible smile from his boyfriend’s face. They lay there in silence for a while, Blaine simply soaking up everything that was Kurt, letting his emotions ebb and lull in the space between them, finally free from the suffocating pressure he had buried them under.

But then, unbidden, a thought injected itself nastily into the moment as Blaine said, “I’ll miss this…I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

The words had just flowed from his lips, because he had talked so much over the past half hour or so, and everything just seemed out in the open. But his jerky and stuttered confessions, as he had spilled them to Kurt, had been without focus, and there had been one key detail he had yet to tell Kurt. His uncle.

The confusion of the words hit Kurt in the stomach, enough for him to actually pull his head back slightly to look at Blaine’s face properly and interrupt, “Wait, what? Who says I’m going anywhere?” Panic threaded through Kurt, because surely Blaine wasn’t about to break up with him like some traumatically damaged martyr? Not after all this? Kurt was strong, but he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to stick it all out with Blaine through an emotionally driven semi-break-up.

Blaine didn’t even see the shock and worry on Kurt’s face, and if only for that, it was obvious just how drained he was. That, and he still wasn’t looking at Kurt’s face, his head angled downwards, focused on his arms as they clasped around Kurt’s body. “I promised my aunt. She...she didn’t want Uncle Peter to know about me, you know, being gay. And especially about you. She said she wasn’t sure how he’d react. And it was the evening after the funeral, and I just couldn’t argue any more about it on top of everything else. And I was just so _tired_ and scared and-” His words tumbled faster and faster now, and Kurt suspected this was the root behind Blaine’s behaviour over the past few days, because on top of everything, on top of his dad, and moving to Lima, and McKinley, he had to go right back and deal with all this old crap? “-And I’m really sorry, and I know you’re gonna think I’m even more of a coward than you already thought I was, and I won’t blame you if you want to break up, because that’s okay, really, you didn’t sign up for any of this, but I’m just really sorry I didn’t fight for it, for us and-”

Kurt lunged forwards and captured Blaine’s lips in a deep kiss that effectively killed all the words trying to escape his mouth. The kiss was perhaps slightly harder than Kurt had intended, but he was also trying to deal with one of those few moments when he felt as much of a testosterone driven moronic teenage boy as Finn. It was either punch a wall while pretending the poor wall was actually Blaine’s family, or translate his anger into passion, and show Blaine just how much he was never planning on breaking up with him.

“Oh…” Blaine said dumbly, when Kurt finally pulled away.

“Just so that’s clear,” Kurt murmured with a spark of a smirk at Blaine’s shocked expression. He dropped to a more serious tone, returning to trace patterns on Blaine’s stomach, “And as for that…narrow-mindedness, we’ll deal with it together. You’re always welcome here, as you, Blaine, not some cheap copy. You know that, right?”

Blaine just smiled softly, and Kurt knew that he did. They had needed this, he thought, as Blaine shifted closer and leant his head against Kurt’s neck. Blaine had needed this. Too much had been hidden away and building up. “Thank you.” Blaine’s words came out in barely a breath, but Kurt still heard them.

They lay in comfortable silence for a little while, and Kurt could hear Blaine’s breathing begin to soften as he continued to trace therapeutic designs across his skin. He sighed, loath to break the moment, but knowing his dad would be home in ten minutes. He looked down at Blaine, and saw that he was struggling to hold his eyes open, clearly wanting to enjoy being with his boyfriend, but equally really needing to sleep.

Kurt smiled fondly, and despite everything that was going on right now, he couldn’t help but have a moment of _Blaine’s my boyfriend!_

He pulled away slightly, jostling Blaine, who blinked owlishly and tried to wake himself out of the sleepy calm he had fallen into. Kurt couldn’t help but lean down and place a few lingering kisses against Blaine’s neck – and when had he gotten to be the bold one in their relationship? “Don’t move a second, I’ll be right back.”

He gracefully slipped over Blaine to the other side of his bed, catching hold of his shirt from earlier, grimacing at how he had let it crumple on the floor. He slipped it on and smoothed out a few creases as he buttoned it up, before reaching down and picking up Blaine’s discarded shirt, delicately turning it back the right way round, before twisting back to climb over Blaine again and retake his previous spot on the bed. Blaine had been watching him the whole time, blinking sleepily with a smile that was so much more open than before, now he had been able to talk to _someone_.

“Here.” Kurt handed Blaine his top as the other boy partly sat up, his brain still comfortably muzzy from the odd half-sleep he had been lying in, hypnotised by Kurt’s gentle patterns. When he was in a more Burt-presentable state, Blaine made to try and wake himself up a bit more, reaching up to scrub his face with his hands and sit up more.

But then gentle hands caught at his, and he was pressed back into the position he had been before, as Kurt curled himself back around him. And that comfortable muzzy feeling snuggled around his brain again, in for the long haul this time. He distantly felt Kurt kiss him softly on his lips, and murmur, “I think you could use some actual sleep, Blaine. Boyfriend-Orders, okay?” Blaine shifted, and curled closer, warm, and not alone, and safe, while Kurt leant his cheek against the gentle curls of Blaine’s hair, “I’m here.”

When Burt crept in five minutes later, he could only smile sadly at his son, curled all around a Blaine as they lay on top of the bedspread. He was just lying there, absently watching his boyfriend doze, quietly listening to music from his iPod in one ear, not wanting to sleep, but obviously not wanting to be anywhere else.

Kurt always was the strong one; even when he shouldn’t have to be.

He watched in amusement as Kurt jumped slightly when he realised his dad was in his bedroom, clearly having been far too gone in his own little world. Blaine didn’t even stir. Burt just smiled, forestalling any chance for Kurt to dare him to make a challenge of how he had found the boys. As far as Burt was concerned – as long as there were clothes and as little skin on show as physically possible, he was just about okay with finding his son in such close proximately to another boy.

Voice low, he murmured to Kurt as he backed out of the room, “Dinner’s at seven – I’ll tell Carole Blaine’ll be eating with us?”

Kurt flashed him a brilliant smile, and it was then that Burt knew something had changed again.

He hoped it lasted.

00000

Kurt allowed himself to drift. He was sort of staring at Blaine, but not really, because his eyes were unfocussed and he was completely lost in his own thoughts. The soundtrack to _Wicked!_ bled seamlessly into the original version of _Raise Your Glass_ , which had been on his iPod since Blaine had forced his music collection onto Kurt’s poor laptop over the summer.

But it always made him smile.

He thought about everything and nothing. About what tomorrow’s day at school would turn out to be like, about what kind of a man Blaine’s uncle might be – theories and dread ran wild in his mind for that one – this week’s Glee assignment, his French essay, Blaine in his arms, what it would be like to win Nationals…

But then Kurt was pulled from his musings, because Blaine had shifted against him, and his muscles that had been so relaxed in sleep were now completely taut and tense.

Kurt looked down, expecting with a nasty feeling to find his boyfriend entering a nightmare in his sleep.

He wasn’t. He was already awake, blinking at a spot on Kurt’s chest. Kurt frowned with concern as Blaine seemed to focus on keeping his breathing controlled. His whole body was utterly frozen in Kurt’s arms.

“Blaine?”

Blaine seemed to relax slightly at Kurt’s voice, a weariness now accompanying his countenance. He sighed in an attempt to brush over whatever had just happened, but Kurt couldn’t miss how Blaine’s grip on his arm was still quite tight. Blaine smiled tightly, “At least I got some sleep, right?”

Kurt’s frown deepened. Blaine must be the most still and silent nightmare-victim on the planet. It was almost unnerving, as if he had gone through this routine so many times, and the one thing he couldn’t dispel was the bone-deep fear such things brought with them. Kurt would know – he’d had his fair share of waking up gasping after Karofsky, “Bad dream?”

Blaine shrugged, “Guess so.” His voice was quiet, and he met Kurt’s concerned gaze tiredly, “They’ll get better. I just need to get through them. Waking up with you helped, of course…” He relaxed more in Kurt’s arms again, and leant up to steal a kiss.

“Smooth,” Kurt said dryly, before continuing more seriously, “This isn’t unusual for you? Nightmares that stop you from sleeping, I mean.”

And there, Kurt _knew_ Blaine was playing something down, “I never remember them. I just know I’ve woken up because of one… I guess it’s when I’m stressed or whatever. How else do you think I got hooked on caffeine?” Blaine tried for weak humour, and then when that failed, changed the subject with the subtlety of a door handle, “What time is it?”

“Nearly seven, I think. But Dad popped in and said you could stay for dinner.”

And there was Blaine’s gorgeous, honest smile, the smile that Kurt had missed seeing with such frequency of late, “Cool. I’ll just call my aunt.” A pause, and then a pout, the scary moment of earlier successfully swept under the carpet as far as Blaine was concerned, “But I don’t wanna move…”

Kurt let it slide, just for now, because they had talked about a lot, and kissed a lot more, and Blaine was really being very cute.

00000

“No, tonight’s cool. I mean, we’ve got glee club stuff tomorrow after school, and I’ve gotta be home straight after school on Friday, ‘cause my uncle’s coming back,” Blaine rolled his eyes as he switched his phone to his other ear. “Whatever, David. But seven thirty sounds good. I’ll let the others know. Kurt and I’ll definitely be there…Yeah, I know...Don’t let Jeff kill Wes, okay? You don’t want to be down a Warbler before you even hit Sectionals! See you guys there.”

Blaine thumbed off his phone and popped his phone absently on his locker shelf so he had free hands to sort his stuff. Kurt smiled at Blaine as he finished with the call, “So… Breadstix?”

“Oooo! Breadstix?” Tina bounded up next to Kurt as he leant against the lockers next to Blaine’s.

Mike followed slightly slower, grinning as he looped an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders, “Cool. Tonight?”

Blaine stuffed his books from that morning’s classes in his locker, nodding with a wry grin, “Yep. Some of the Warblers have organised a fieldtrip to check up on me under the guise of dinner. We thought we’d make it a big glee club thing if you guys are up for it?”

Kurt grinned superiorly, glancing at Mike’s over-exaggerated scandalous expression he gasped dramatically, “You never pass up on Breadstix!”

Blaine snorted, closing his locker and shouldering his bag as the four of them headed off in the direction of the courtyard, where they were meeting some of the other glee kids for break. They were only a little way down the corridor when Blaine cursed in mild annoyance, patting his pocket, “Damn, I left my phone in my locker. Back in a sec.”

Kurt rolled his eyes fondly as the three of them paused on the corner and Blaine did an about turn, “My boyfriend, everyone.”

A metallic dull quick succession of thuds, the theme tune of Kurt’s junior year, and his easy smile dropped. His head whipped around just in time to see his boyfriend slammed up against the lockers, flanked by Azimio and another footballer equally as big, and watch as two cups of neon blue raspberry slushies were emptied over Blaine’s head.

What was worse, besides the sickening jolt in his stomach, and the white hot anger, Kurt found he was completely unsurprised.

But the accompanying, “Welcome to McKinley, bitch!” as Azimio actually ruffled Blaine’s slushy filled hair roughly, before giving him one last shove and swaggering away, laughing with his friend, was way too much for Kurt to handle.

His angered shout of “Hey!” as he strode towards the scene was completely expected.

Mike’s gentle but firm touch on his shoulder as he pulled Kurt slightly back to take point against what had happened was reassuring.

Tina’s instant grabbing for her phone was simply glee club protocol.

But everyone in the corridor, from Azimio, to Mike, to that odd looking freshman and that annoying cheerleader, and especially Kurt, were completely stunned by one thing.

Blaine.

Blaine, and how after barely a split second of freezing shock, he tackled Azimio, a football player over twice his size.

Needless to say, it all went downhill from there.


	11. Chapter 11

Blaine had forgotten, more than he had actually realised.

Dalton had saved him.

The Warblers had healed him.

Kurt had loved him.

And even the crushing pressure on his chest and the sharp pain in his back as he was thrown into metal lockers had not been that bad. Okay, so it _was_ awful, but seriously, been there, done that, felt way worse, so try harder guys.

The sub-zero dousing by an absurdly blue, very sticky iced drink was less familiar. And pretty much stalled his brain for a few seconds because – _cold!_ It sluggishly flowed over his head, trickling down his back and neck, dripping from his hair; so many unpleasant and definitely unwelcome sensations. But, amongst a detached sense of admiration for the glee club and their ability to deal with this on a regular basis, Blaine was still determined to keep it together, to hold his ground and just ignore it. Because he knew he was better than this. Dalton had taught him that, and Kurt had affirmed it.

“Welcome to McKinley, bitch!” But with those precise words, and a huge meaty hand pressing down on his skull, mashing the blue ice further into his hair, Blaine’s entire body and brain just tensed.

Amongst the cold, the embarrassment and the blue, that _one thing_ shot through his head as a jagged glass shard.

 _“Watch where you’re going, bitch!”_ Everyone. Just, everyone. All the time. McKinley had ‘homo’ and ‘fairy’ as its standby go-to words. Coleview had ‘bitch’.

 _“Look what we’ve got here, boys – a cute little pair of bitches all dressed up for the ball!”_ Those Guys. From That Night.

 _“Well maybe if you weren’t such a whiny bitch all the time, then they wouldn’t crack down on us so hard!”_ Daniel. His date from That Night. The last time he saw him. The words that had made him feel worthless and wrong.

And tiredness, and loss, and just _too much_ , and Blaine was done dealing with all this crap.

In the strangest, most detached way, before the mist of blind red anger flooded Blaine’s nerves, the last thing he remembered thinking  before all rational thought deserted him was, _Wes is going to kill me for this…_

Azimio was so taken aback by such an unexpected reaction from the new kid that he slipped on the spilled blue slushy on the shiny linoleum, and crashed backwards with Blaine’s rage-driven momentum.

His shock didn’t last long.

And high school fights are _never_ clean cut or stylish like in movies – especially not between a footballer and a music geek half his size.

The impact as Azimio skidded over threw Blaine off, and his elbow cracked painfully on the floor. His shoes slipped, and suddenly that was a good thing, because this hulk of a kid was _at him_ , and he barely avoided a head on tackle.

And then he was kicking and punching at anything, trying to break Azimio’s hold as the footballer wrenched him so hard with a brutal grip on his upper arm that set his shoulder nerves on fire and sling-shotted him into the lockers on the other side of the hall.

Blaine’s side impacted, and his knees buckled slightly as he felt every padlock, every metal edge. But adrenaline and unadulterated, liberating rage overrode every other feeling, and he lunged again.

It was all suffocating muscle and clawing and struggling and who cared how dirty he fought.

They both hit the floor in a messy tangle, Azimio’s knee jerked up, and Blaine’s head exploded in stars as his neck snapped back with a lucky blow to his lower jaw.

The world faded in and out. Blaine became aware of shouting and screaming, and suddenly he was conscious of a weight of bodies and people beyond just him and Azimio.

And then someone much larger than Blaine was pulling him off the ground, one strong arm wrapped across his collarbone, while they used their other arm to firmly restrain him by securing a hold around his stomach and lifting him off his feet, forcibly dragging him away from the fight. They were yelling in his ear, but he just didn’t care. He didn’t care that he could see stars, that his back was screaming, and that he was still sticky and freezing. He struggled and wrenched, trying to get free.

But then the scene began to clear, and Blaine started to see more than just Azimio and blue slushy.

And two delicate hands were roughly taking hold of his face, obscuring Azimio from his vision as Kurt was suddenly just _there_ , his voice strong and sharp, “Blaine! Blaine, calm down! Stop it! Calm down!”

His breathing started to even out, and with every passing second, more parts of him began to hurt.

“Don’t even think about it!” A cutting voice a little way away cracked through the rapidly quietening hallway. Kurt turned briefly to check what was going on behind him, and Blaine’s viewpoint was briefly opened up to reveal Coach Sylvester staring down Azimio.

Kurt turned back to Blaine, and seemed to wait for second to make sure he had all of Blaine’s attention, “You back?” His voice was gentler now, but there was still a tense edge to it.

He glanced over Blaine’s shoulder, assumedly at whoever was restraining him, and Blaine felt the arms loosening to a hold more designed to keep him upright.

It was then he registered that the person holding him was a teacher. Blaine was pretty sure she was the football coach – Beiste, wasn’t it?

Why was everyone so tall?

Adrenaline had deserted him, and the fury he had felt began to lessen to a dull angry buzz, giving way for his body to protest and slump.

And, wow, he only just realised just how many people had gathered.

Still, as pure silence fell and everyone waiting with baited breath to hear how the two coaches would react now order had been restored, Blaine unreservedly glared at Azimio, who scowled back, and he found that he really wasn’t remorseful at all.

00000

“Blaine!” Kurt’s cry ripped from his throat in shock, because _what the hell was his boyfriend doing?_

Kurt’s heart leapt into his throat at exactly the moment Blaine leapt at Azimio. He watched in horror as Blaine and Azimio crashed to the ground, the footballer’s anger was palpable in the air.

His boyfriend was going to die.

Blaine was thrown into the lockers, and Kurt was running forwards, but before he could reach him and do, well _something, anything_ , Kurt’s arm was wrenched harshly backwards, and he found himself forcibly shoved into Tina by Mike. The other boy didn’t even break his stride, and Kurt’s head whipped painfully in time to see Mike pin the second footballer into the lockers before the other guy could get a swipe at Blaine.

“Let go of me, Tina!” Kurt hissed with so much venom at his friend that she reflexively obeyed, but before he could act, the on looking students were parting like the Red Sea with the thundering appearance of the McKinley football coach.

Coach Beiste waded in with little effort, bodily lifting a struggling Blaine away from Azimio, who was rapidly coming to his senses at the appearance of one of the few people at the school who could make his life a living hell if she so pleased.

“Enough! Dammit, kid, calm down!” Beiste had Blaine in a firm hold, but he wasn’t co-operating.

Azimio scowled maliciously, rising to his feet as Blaine still struggled against Coach Beiste, trying to pull away. Kurt ran forward, forgetting about Azimio, and scrambled to get a firm hold on Blaine’s face as he kicked back against Coach Beiste. Kurt leaned in close, his voice higher with panic, because Blaine had completely snapped, and Kurt had never seen him so blindly angry. He hadn’t even known Blaine could _get_ this angry, “Blaine! Blaine, calm down! Stop it! Calm down!”

Blaine’s eyes cleared slightly, and his struggles became less pronounced.

“Don’t even think about it!” Kurt broke his eye contact with Blaine for a second to see Coach Sylvester facing down Azimio, hand pushed on his chest, pressing him back against the lockers.

She looked pissed.

“You back?” Kurt asked Blaine, desperately searching to put some semblance of calm into his tone. There may have been a tiny nod, and there was definitely more of Blaine in those eyes now.

Coach Beiste looked torn between some seriously biblical anger, and a real deep worry for what the hell would possess a kid Blaine’s size to try and take out one of the largest players on the McKinley Titans.

Blaine, for his part, was starting to shake slightly from the adrenaline come down, flitting between anger, horror and disbelief at what had just happened. What he had just _done._

The arms that restrained him loosened, and passed him off the Kurt, who immediately secured a strong hold around Blaine’s waist and a numbing grip on his arm, as if Kurt  was concerned he would just jump Azimio again.

Dimly, the boys were aware that their audience had increased, as Tina’s SOS to the other members of glee club finally brought the others to their location.

If it hadn’t been for the situation, their expressions would have made Kurt laugh.

Coach Beiste stepped back, arms folded, looking between Blaine and Azimio, before, oddly, looking to Sue. The entire school knew of the plain hatred between those two, so that just made everything all the more unnerving.

“Porcelain.” Coach Sylvester’s voice sliced through the leaden atmosphere, and Kurt automatically looked at his old cheer coach, “Take Smurfette to the nurse.” Kurt blinked once, took one look over Blaine’s slightly bloody, slushy stained appearance, and just nodded quickly.

“Move along!” Beiste yelled at the gawking students who had stopped to watch the fight, “Or I’ll have you all running track three hours after school every day for the rest of your academic lives!”

That got people moving pretty quickly.

But not before they caught Sue Sylvester looming nastily over Azimio, “No one makes for Porcelain – especially not when his back is turned. You. Will follow me. Now.”

Because, although neither of the teachers said it, although neither of them acknowledged it, to pull Azimio up for the fight would also mean they would have to condemn Blaine.

It was a slippery slope for a fight that under any other circumstances, any other conditions, circumstances or participants, would have just been another Wednesday at McKinley.

But this fight had been loaded with a lot more. Loaded with a poison that neither teacher felt particularly equipped to deal head on with, publically in the halls.

But then Azimio had made a lunging step towards Kurt’s turned back, and had sealed his position on Sue’s Hate List of the Week.

Because Sue had a twisted form of honourable logic, and Kurt had helped her when her sister had died. She might not be able to repay the boy directly, but she knew what the kid’s boyfriend was going through, and Azimio just point blank pissed her off.

Shannon Beiste had just seen the look in Blaine’s eyes.

00000

Kurt led Blaine to the nurse’s office in complete silence. They got more than a few looks on their way there – Blaine’s appearance, Kurt’s expression and the way he was holding onto his boyfriend were all pretty attention drawing factors.

The nurse checked Blaine over, and proclaimed him bruised but not too seriously hurt – she had seen worse come off the football field…just about. But as she finished up, “Did you want me to give your mom a call? Or your dad?”

It was such a simple question. And Blaine’s head just throbbed, and he wanted to throw up, but not because of the pain. It was because he knew that was the first of many times people were going to ask him that question in innocent ignorance, and he just couldn’t handle it, and he couldn’t unstuck his tongue to correct her.

Kurt rescued him, his voice slightly wavering despite his attempt to keep stoic, “He’ll be fine.”

The nurse looked dubious as Blaine remained silent and avoided her eyes. “Okay, but you stay here until your next class. If you feel sick, or dizzy, you let me know. You don’t seem to have a concussion, but I want to be sure.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Kurt’s tone brokered no argument.

The nurse gave them one last look before disappearing and leaving them alone.

Silence hung dead.

A beat.

And then Kurt fully rounded on Blaine, and exploded, “What the hell, Blaine? Azimio? Seriously, _Azimio?_ The guy’s the size of a freaking freight train, and probably hits like one too! I should be scraping what’s left of you off lockers right now! You can’t just go and pull crap like that around here! He could have _killed you!_ Do you not get that? Have you any idea how absolutely _terrifying_ it was to see you in that hallway and know that there was nothing that I could do to help? To look at you and not trust that I would be able to calm you down?”

Kurt’s voice had started off high and slightly fractured, but it gained volume and vindication rapidly, until Blaine could only stare up at Kurt as he ranted in his face, towering slightly over him where he stood and Blaine sat. Kurt gestured with his hands, he paced and yelled, tears gathering slightly in his shining eyes, but not falling.

Blaine didn’t say a word. He just sat there, aching, bloody and sticky, his head fuzzy and his jaw throbbing, listening as his boyfriend completely tore into him.

Guilt coiled, and while he would never regret standing up to Azimio the way he had, he did regret what his actions had done to Kurt.

And then Kurt finally seemed to run out of steam, and his voice just dropped bitterly, but threaded with so much pleading love, “You have _no idea_ how much you scared me, Blaine.” And then, in a last ditch attempt to get some sort of reaction out of Blaine, who had just sat there in the most scarily numb and impassive way that _anyone_ ever had when faced with one of Kurt’s rants, the last words just tumbled from his lips, “God, Blaine, what would your dad have thought?”

Blaine actually physically flinched back at those words. His head reeled fractionally, and his hands clenched involuntarily.

Every fibre of Kurt’s body froze in dread and instant regret, waiting for Blaine’s reaction. And then Blaine’s eyes broke contact with his for the first time since Kurt had started shouting, and his shoulders slumped. His fingers twisted in his lap, and then, still not looking up at Kurt, he just mumbled, “I’m sorry… I guess I wasn’t thinking…”

There was an emotion in Blaine’s voice that Kurt had never heard before. It was not one he could place, but he knew that it filled him with a sense of _wrong._ Blaine shouldn’t have responded like that. “No… no, I’m so sorry Blaine, I didn’t mean-”

Blaine raised his head, and smiled a smile that completely turned Kurt’s stomach. Kurt remained completely wrong-footed as Blaine caught his hand and squeezed it, leaning up slightly to kiss Kurt lightly on the lips, “I promise I won’t do anything like that again.” His eyes were wrong. Blaine’s eyes were so wrong right now, and Kurt _did that_ , “You were right, and I’m glad you said something. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Thank you for not tip-toeing around me… Do you think we could get out of here? Because I think the sugar is actually fusing with my skin… And I really don’t want to be blue when we see the Warblers later…”

“S-sure…” Blaine never reacted like that to Kurt. Ever.

_Wrong._

Kurt knew that he had finally slipped up in his stumbling attempt to look after Blaine in all of this horrible, morbid mess. Something had changed for the worse, just with that one last comment, and Kurt could almost see Blaine pulling away from him at a rapid pace.

Blaine, for his part, had listened to everything that Kurt had said, and he had agreed. He was a mess. He had scared his boyfriend; he was an emotional wreck, a dysfunctional disaster who couldn’t even cry.

So he did what he always did, what he hadn’t had to do with Kurt for what seemed like forever, not since the very first time they met and Blaine had to pretend like he knew what he was doing. He pulled on a smile. He buried the tangled mess that he was, to be dealt with later, when it wouldn’t screw up Kurt’s life.

He would not scare Kurt again. He had used him as enough of a crutch already, and look where that had got them.

As Blaine warmly took his boyfriend’s hand, all Kurt could see was everything tiny good thing they had achieved together since that horrible phonecall crumble away.

And he had no idea how to fix this, because Blaine was already pretending, and it was breaking Kurt’s heart to watch.


	12. Chapter 12

“Woah, man – what did you do to your _face?_ ”

Wes looked like he wanted to kick Jeff. Hard. Unlike the rest of the Warblers, who had just stared in silence as their former lead singer sat down, trying to find something appropriate to say, Jeff had once again proven that he was born without a brain-to-mouth censor.

But then Blaine had just thrown them all a wry smile, accompanied with a wince, shrugging at the blond boy, “I tripped?”

“Yeah, into Azimio’s fist.” The New Directions boy with the mohawk snorted, “It was awesome.”

Blaine cocked his head, playfully thoughtful, “I think it was his knee, actually…”

Another one of the Warblers, Nick, just blinked rapidly. And to think that only five minutes ago they had all been flailing to Wes and David about what to say to their friend, whom they hadn’t seen in over two weeks, “Okay, someone want to back up a little here? Because that is a serious shiner Blaine’s got going on…” It was true – there was a large purpling bruise already blossoming across Blaine’s jawline, and it looked like it was only warming up.

And then more of the New Directions boys were scraping tables, and some of the girls were grabbing chairs, until the two glee clubs were taking over Breadstix in a misshapen mass-table. Within this flurry of movement, the energetic teenagers relayed an increasingly epic tale of Blaine vs. one of the McKinley Titans’ footballers – who apparently lived up to the claim of ‘Titan’ rather well.

It was one of those stories that would be retold over and over, with grins, laughs and pats of the back, while at the same time being sharply edged, in a way that made you know how it had been far scarier at the time.

Two hours later, an impressive array of desserts were scattered around, and Finn particularly seemed to be relishing in the fact that he was sitting with Rachel, who was apparently very lax in policing her food when engaged in music driven rants with Warbler Trent. It had been fun – _really_ fun. Relaxed and full of laughter.

For all except David.

Because David just couldn’t stop watching Blaine, ever since his friend had walked in those doors with that sickening bruise on his face. And yes, maybe he was overanalysing everything, and _yes_ , it was a long time ago since David had needed to look out for Blaine, but David still knew his friend.

He also knew he wasn’t imagining that look on Kurt’s face when he thought no one was watching him. That look; just a glance at Blaine as if everything had gone wrong, all over again.

Wes laughed at something Santana said, and David was pulled from his repeated musings as Blaine threw him a questioning look with that infuriating smile of his, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

David rolled his eyes, “Cute, Blaine.”

Any reply from Blaine was cut off by his phone. He checked the screen, “It’s my aunt – I’ll be back in a sec.” He somehow manoeuvred himself around the press of chairs and disappeared outside to answer the call where he could actually hear something more than Rachel’s voice at full volume.

There was that look on Kurt’s face again, and there was an odd flicker across the faces of Puck and Finn with the symmetry behind the call.

It only took about three beats before the Warblers started to gently pepper the New Directions for a Blaine-update. They were all pretty positive, and David dimly noted Wes gently resting a hand on Kurt’s arm, quietly checking how _he_ was doing.

He was ‘fine’, apparently. Typical Kurt. The only one who could really ever get him to open up was Blaine, so Wes was probably fighting a lost cause there.

David sighed quietly to himself, eyes fixed on the door Blaine had gone through.

While they ate, David had mostly talked himself out of it. He had persuaded himself that it was probably best if Kurt and Blaine’s aunt handle this, even if at the same time, deep down, he didn’t really want them to. He told himself over and over that this was a _completely different situation_.

It hadn’t helped.

Because two years ago, just before Christmas, Dalton had given one of their more relaxed, cheery, over-achieving students a New Kid to look after.

And David hadn’t really stopped.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” David murmured to Wes. There was a flicker of recognition behind his best friend’s eyes, and the other boy just nodded. As David wound his way out, Kurt looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped at the last second, looking defeated. David’s resolve strengthened.

David walked outside, away from the chaos of voices and into the quiet of the September night air. A quick scan of the immediate area found Blaine sitting a little way away on the curb that dipped down to the parking lot.  His voice was monotonous as he signed off the call, “I know, okay? I get it…yes, I promise…see you at the house in an hour…bye…”

“Well, that sounded like a fun call,” David noted, pulling his rolled up sleeves back down over his arms to fend off the slight bite in the air.

Blaine jumped at David’s voice, but didn’t make to get up, recognising that there was probably a reason why David had sought him out when he was clearly on the phone. He shrugged as David sat down on the curb next to him, “I left a voicemail for my aunt telling her what happened with Azimio.”

“A voicemail? Ouch.”

“Yeah. I don’t think she was impressed, but…” Blaine shrugged again, “Whatever. She seemed okay.”

David leaned his arms casually on his knees, stretching his loosely clasped hands out in front of him, simply looking out onto the parking lot as he replied, “She didn’t flip out then? I mean, you got into a fight and all…”

“No. She didn’t flip out.” Carefully enunciated words. A forced casualness, because it was obvious to both of them that Blaine had wanted her to react a little bit more than she had, rather than treating him like glass.

David decided that there wasn’t much point in tiptoeing around his friend right then, so he just repeated the part of Mike’s tale that had stuck with him all evening, “ _Welcome to McKinley, bitch._ ”

Blaine really flinched, his whole body tensing, before he bit out a sharp, “Don’t.”

“Can’t,” David shot back, knowing that Blaine understood full well where this conversation was about to go.

“I was just tired, okay? I let the jerk get to me when I shouldn’t have. Kurt’s already chewed me out for nearly getting flattened, I get it, and for the last time, I won’t do it again!”

Well, that explained the slight frostiness between Kurt and Blaine, David mused. “Yeah? And why are you tired?”

Blaine shook his head, “I don’t need to listen to this from you again.” His leg slid forwards, scraping against the concrete as he made to get up.

David twisted, pressing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, effectively stalling all momentum, calmly replying, “What you don’t need is to do this to yourself again.”

And then Blaine let out a short laugh that sounded so helpless, “It’s not like I can go home this time. I’m stuck. I’ll just have to deal with it… They’ll pass.”

And David was thrown back to that night, when he had happened to wake up thirsty in the 2am winter darkness of his dorm room. He had found his roommate of only a week – a quiet, painfully reserved transfer from a public school – sitting curled up in bed, just hugging his knees, eyes glittering softly within the dark as he stared at nothing. David would always be glad he hadn’t just gone back to sleep and ignored it.

 _“Can’t sleep?”_ A hushed whisper, not expecting a reply.

 _“I don’t sleep well in new places I guess…”_ The naked tiredness in the other boy’s voice would always be the one thing that stuck with David.

Dalton was a limited boarding school, and with its growing population over the years, David was one of only a small number of students who boarded; apart from Nick, all the other Warblers were day students. So a rush through transfer in the middle of the term for a temporary boarding student was bound to flood the rumour mill. Especially when there were no empty rooms left, which meant the New Kid would have to share with an existing student.

In the best way to avoid tension, Dalton had asked for a volunteer to share. The new student would apparently only be boarding until the end of term, at which point his family would have moved to the area.

The mystery had only grown with that titbit of information, because usually mid-term transfers were kids being dragged along with their family, not the other way around.

And so, David had offered to share his room for the last four weeks of term. It was an interesting four weeks, that was for certain, and he had learned a lot about Blaine – eventually.

The first thing he had learned was that Blaine had been injured recently, probably just prior to his transfer, if those fading bruises across his ribs were anything to go by. He had seen them on the first night, when Blaine hadn’t been quite quick enough with his t-shirt when getting ready for bed. The spike of fear behind the other boy’s eyes had prompted David to pretend he hadn’t seen.

In the first week, David had learned that Blaine had a more disturbed sleep pattern than Wes on the run up to their class-placement exams. By the time the second week rolled around, it had only gotten worse.

This had inevitably led to one of the most important revelations of the New Kid, along with a small but vital secondary fact – when Blaine got tired, what was back then his default setting of shy, polite and quiet got damaged. One second, Blaine had been sitting with David and the other Warblers in the cafeteria for lunch, and the next-

_“Just stop it already! Do you think I can’t see your sideways looks and hear you talking about me? I’m gay, okay? I was run out of my old school because I’m gay. Happy? Brilliant. So now you can all start hating me, and you can ask for a room transfer, and I can just get through this year.”_

Blaine had stormed out after his little outburst, leaving a wake of shocked students, some of whom hadn’t even heard the New Kid say one word since his arrival. David had run after him, only catching up to Blaine back in their room.

 _“What are you doing?”_ Blaine had been throwing things into a bag haphazardly. David had just closed the door softly behind him, leaning against it.

_“Getting out of your way. Look, I get it; I’ll sort something with the Dean. I won’t say anything, but I’d really appreciate it if you leave me alone.”_

David had just stared. _“I didn’t ask you to leave. Blaine, seriously, I don’t care that you’re gay. I mean, I’m straight, so it’s not like anything’s gonna happen that’d get us into trouble rooming together…”_

Blaine had frozen, his expression almost comical with shock, _“W-what?”_

_“Look, Blaine, I don’t know what your last school was like, but you came here for a reason. No one cares here, and if they did and made something of it, they’d be out on their ass – we’d just like to get to know you.”_

_“Yeah. Because everyone wants to be friends with a limp-wristed little bitch.”_ The sheer venom laced in Blaine’s voice had only driven home to David how glad he was that he was at Dalton, because no one should be able to conjure that much self hate when mimicking what was clearly someone else’s words.

Neither David nor Blaine had gone to classes that afternoon. And David had learnt _a lot_ about Blaine, about how he had come to be at Dalton. He had even, somehow, eventually convinced him that they weren’t all just playing a cruel trick on him, pretending to be kind.

That day had been the beginning of finally getting to know Blaine, the following weeks convincing him to hang out with them, to sing with them, to smile and laugh and joke _with_ them. Blaine’s insomnia had abated slightly over time, but at the beginning resulted in the Lima Bean becoming the Warbler’s favourite off-campus haunt – awesome caffeine. It was just another quirk they had all learned, and had accepted. Even after Christmas, when Blaine became a day student and turned up actually looking like he had _slept_ , they kept up the habit.

Except, now, David was sitting with his friend, looking just as bone tired as he had in those first weeks. And Blaine was right – there was no quick fix against the insomnia and nightmares this time. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no going home to the familiar after a short stint in the scary unknown.

Blaine rubbed his hands over his face, “It’s only really become an issue these last few days…” He trailed off, and for a moment David wasn’t sure he was going to continue. But then the shorter boy just shrugged helplessly, and mumbled, “I don’t know if I can do this David…”

And David knew it wasn’t just about his dad. It was _everything_.

Because just like when he had come to Dalton, it had been everything. Moving to Westerville, to _Dalton_ , being surrounded by strange, unpredictable kids, including a new, decidedly straight roommate, being driven out of his old school-

And now, moving to Lima, basically living with a stranger, his uncle still wasn’t back yet, a new school, new friends, trying to keep hold of his old friends, his boyfriend, the funeral, his _dad_ -

The whole thing made David feel overwhelmed, and he was just watching it happen to Blaine.

David smiled sadly at his friend, rummaging in his jeans pocket until he extracted what he was looking for, handing it to Blaine. “It’s still on there; never got round to deleting it I guess.”

Blaine looked at the well-loved, scratched and battered iPod in his hands. He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it, because when you considered how loaded David’s parents were, you’d think he would have upgraded the device since their freshman year. He swallowed uncertainly, “Could I-”

David cut across the question with a fond grin, bumping Blaine’s shoulder lightly. “Why do you think I just gave it to you? Come on, they’ll be wondering where we got to, and it’s really cold out here!”

Blaine nodded, slightly less shakily, and levered himself to his feet, pocketing the gift that had replaced the typical reassuring response to his admission of not knowing if he could cope. David, of course, knew that Blaine _could do this_ , because he had seen him cope with a lot already.

But David also knew that had he just replied with an empty _‘Of course you can do this!’_ Blaine would never have believed him.

00000

Blaine shifted awake uncomfortably, his jaw throbbing in tandem with his hammering heart. His throat was tight and he was way too hot under the restrictive but slightly reassuring covers.

He took a few moments to try and steady his breathing, the creeping remnants of the nightmare lingering out of the grasp of his conscious mind, offsetting his nerves. A glance at the clock – 4.30am. Three and a bit hours’ sleep. Brilliant. He knew it would be pointless to try to get back to sleep, and his jaw only helped to make him even more upset and frustrated at the whole situation.

He just wanted to sleep! Was that so much to ask? But now his mind had kicked to overdrive, not even really thinking about _anything_ , but still decidedly awake, even though the rest of him was so bone-deep tired.

Despite repeated experience, Blaine attempted to close his eyes and just lie in bed for half an hour before he just couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up, but left his light off just in case. And then his eye caught something familiar lying on his bedside table, and he was really hit with just that – _familiar._ Because that tiny little device reminded him of Dalton, and his friends, and when everything changed, but as it turned out, everything changed for the better.

By his third week at Dalton, Blaine had officially scared his new friend and roommate with his inability to sleep. He hadn’t been able to help it – he couldn’t stop thinking of the dance, and Coleview, and the attackers, and Daniel, and _everything_. And he still had been untrusting of the whole ‘we don’t care that you’re gay’ thing everyone seemed to have going on.

So David and Wes had made a playlist. It was a playlist full of some of the crappiest, bounciest Top 40 songs you would ever come across. And one evening, just before lights out, David had given Blaine his iPod, shrugging, _“At least you’ll have something to listen to? Maybe you’ll stop thinking so much?”_

Back then, it had helped, because all the songs were the exact opposite to how he felt, and sometimes so inane that he would end up falling asleep and wake up with his alarm, nearly strangling himself in the headphone cords, much to David’s amusement.

Now, Blaine knew that the songs would be too trivial to really help him, but this time they meant something more. They were familiar, and reminded him of his best friends, and how things can actually get better.

Blaine curled back down in his bed, putting the worn headphones in his ears, and thumbed the device to life, flicking down the numerous playlists until he found the one he was looking for.

A one-word title, thought up by two Dalton boys who were completely unsure how to help this broken kid, but really knowing that they wanted to try.

_‘Courage’_


	13. Chapter 13

“So are you and Blaine having a fight or something?” Finn’s rush of words punctured the silence of the car, snapping Kurt out of his reverie.

Kurt turned to look at his stepbrother, who was steadfastly watching the road as he drove them to school, “I’m sorry, _what_?”

He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have known it would only encourage a Finn-patented word vomit, and Kurt really wasn’t feeling up to that right now, “Well, it’s just, last night, you guys were kinda weird with each other, and when he came back to ours yesterday before Breadstix, you were both sorta quiet, like when I do something that really annoys Rachel, but she pretends that I haven’t, but she clearly _is_ annoyed, and it just makes things really awkward. And this morning you’re all depressed and stuff, like, more than usual, and-”

 **“** Finn! Finn, just stop and breathe a second, okay?” Kurt shook his head in genuine wonderment at his brother’s really bizarre but oddly sweet thought process, “Blaine and I, we’re not having a fight. At least, I don’t think so… It’s complicated.”

Kurt sighed, and looked back out of the window, expecting for the car to lull back into silence. Finn didn’t co-operate, “You…umm…you wanna talk about it?”

Kurt turned back to Finn and arched a delicate eyebrow, deadpanning, “Seriously Finn?”

Finn shrugged awkwardly, fidgeting slightly as he drove, “Yeah? It’s what brothers do, right?”

And Kurt couldn’t stop the warm swell in his chest, because he knew that’s really what Finn saw them as. Ever since the wedding, it had been like a simple switch had been flipped in Finn’s head, and them being brothers had just become Fact. And that was made to include everything that Finn believed was entailed in being Kurt’s brother, even if only a couple of years ago he was amongst those helping in the dumpster tossing.

Who knew what not even two years could do?

Kurt sighed, pushing aside the rather unsettling feeling of talking to another guy who wasn’t his dad or boyfriend about his relationship. He usually used the girls for these sorts of chats. “I yelled at Blaine after he got into the fight yesterday.”

Finn winced in reflex sympathy for Blaine, because he knew how scary it could be to be on the bad end of one of Kurt’s tirades. “Why?”

“Why?” Kurt gestured with his hands, trying to put the entire mess that was yesterday into some form of words, “Because Azimio could have killed him, that’s why! Because Blaine, of all people, got into a fight! _On purpose!_ ”

Finn shifted awkwardly, “Yeah? Well didn’t Mike say that you tried to jump in too? Because seriously dude, that’s like a toothpick attacking a polar bear… _You_ could’ve been killed.”

Kurt spluttered for a second, caught between outrage at his brother calling him a toothpick, and floundering for a response, “That was completely different!”

“How?”

“I was trying to break it up! And who’s side are you on, anyway?” Kurt folded his arms haughtily as Finn pulled into a free space outside McKinley.

Finn turned off the engine, and grabbed his bag from the back seat, getting out of the car with Kurt, “I’m not on anyone’s side! I’m just pointing out that yesterday was pretty intense for both of you.”

Kurt sighed, and leant back against the car door as Finn walked around, “It’s beside the point, anyway, because Blaine just completely let me rant. And now he’s acting like nothing’s wrong, and I was so _stupid_ , and I just said completely the wrong thing at the wrong time, you know?”

Finn nodded emphatically, because that was definitely a situation he could relate to. He hated seeing Kurt look so down though; it made him look way too much like how he’d been just before Dalton, and that was an era Finn was never going to let himself go by unchecked again. He swayed sideways, bumping his arm against Kurt’s shoulder softly, “You’re doing your best – seriously. I don’t think I would be able to handle this half as well as you have. You just…know. Like, what to say, what to do… Like with Coach Sylvester when her sister died. You’re just really good with… people-emotional-stuff.”

Kurt smiled crookedly, but found himself gently bumping shoulders back in the smallest of movements, really grateful for Finn in that moment. “I’m really not.”

“You really are.” Finn smiled, and Kurt remembered why Finn was one of their team leaders. He was an accident waiting to happen, but he always had these rare moments in between.

00000

For the first time in his life, Kurt could not care any less about _Wicked_. They were all in the choir room after school, and for that week’s assignment – following their brilliant show of _Seasons of Love_ the previous week – Mr Schue had decided that they should all focus on a song that would showcase their acting ability through music. Quinn and Santana really were doing an incredible reworking of _Popular_ into a duet, each playfully fighting for a verse, but Kurt just couldn’t bring himself to immerse himself in the performance.

He was far too aware of Blaine sitting next to him with his arms folded. The other boy was grinning and laughing along with the rest of the club at Quinn and Santana’s antics as they pushed each other out of the way to grab lines, but he was just so…closed off. Kurt couldn’t help but see how behind him Tina was leaning into Mike, glancing up at her boyfriend every now and again. He couldn’t avoid seeing Rachel sitting with Finn’s arm casually draped around her shoulders.

It was like Blaine was an island all of his own. The whole day had been the complete opposite of the past two weeks. Blaine hadn’t tried to initiate any sort of contact all day, and that was when they were even together. It was like Kurt was watching Blaine pull away one step at a time, as if the other boy had finally decided that even Kurt wasn’t allowed in his bubble anymore.

The duet finished, and everyone clapped. As the applause died down and Mr Schue stood to congratulate the girls and talk some more, Kurt decided that enough was enough. He reached over, catching Blaine’s hand before he could fold his arms back up, and pulled it into his lap. Their eyes locked for a second, and for a stomach-clenching moment, Kurt was really scared that he had gone too far; that Blaine didn’t want him right now. But then Blaine tentatively smiled, and gave Kurt’s hand a slight squeeze, allowing their clasped hands to remain in Kurt’s lap.

Kurt breathed easier for the rest of the practice, and maybe, he conceded, he wasn’t a complete disaster after all if Blaine wasn’t completely pulling away.

But even with Blaine’s hand in his lap, Kurt couldn’t help but dwell on his thoughtless, heat-of-the-moment words from the previous day, and knew that they were going to have to talk about it. If only because Kurt really didn’t think he could continue to just take this all one second at a time.

He needed Blaine to know that he was there for him, and he really needed to know that Blaine would _let_ him, rather than them both just pretending until something breaks.

00000

“Aunt Sarah?” Blaine called into the house as he toed off his shoes and closed the door behind him. Today had not been a fun day. His jaw was really tender, and his shoulder was stiff from where he had hit the lockers yesterday. On top of that, although he had probably gotten more sleep last night that he had all week, ‘more sleep’ in Blaine’s terms meant about half of what a teenager his age was supposed to be getting, and he felt completely dead on his feet.

Glee Club had been fun, and he had honestly enjoyed the hour of just forgetting everything and having the music. Except now he wasn’t sure if Kurt was upset with him, because all day he had purposefully avoided all overt shows of PDA, just to prove to Kurt that he was trying, that he was listening. But then in Glee, Kurt had grabbed his hand pretty forcibly, so maybe that hadn’t been the point from yesterday?

It all gave Blaine more of a headache than he already had. Relationships really were very complicated, and Blaine was self-professedly not very good at them. Where had the complete feeling of safety and love from Tuesday gone to? How did everything spin around that quickly? He knew that he wouldn’t be able to let things stick like this for any longer, and resolved to really just sit down and talk to Kurt. Properly. Because, oddly, they were actually pretty good at that.

“Blaine!” He heard his aunt call from the lounge, and wow, talking about emotional turnarounds, because she sounded completely different from last night during their talk about the fight. “Guess who’s home early?”

Blaine’s stomach knotted as he entered the room to see his aunt sitting on the sofa with another man. Damn. He could really have done without this for just one more day. His uncle stood with an easy lopsided grin, and Blaine watched as his hopes of the potential benefit of not having seen his uncle in a long while were dashed.

Yep. He still hadn’t grown. And yes, Uncle Peter was still as huge as Finn. As if Blaine didn’t have enough of a complex about his height as it was. He somehow managed to pull the bewildered expression off his face and replaced it with a warm grin, “Oh! Hi!”

“Hey kid!” Peter pulled him into a sort of awkward one armed hug, clearly having no idea what else to do with the teenager in front of him.

As his uncle pulled away, Sarah rose, smiling to stand by her husband, “Peter’s business wrapped up early, it’s that wonderful?”

It was going to be a very long evening.

00000

Blaine opened his eyes to darkness. There was no pounding heart, because he hadn’t actually been able to get to sleep yet. Dinner had been uncomfortable and forced, and he had been painfully aware of how both his aunt and uncle had kept staring at the growing bruising on his jaw, but had pointedly refused to mention it.

He had disappeared to his room as quickly as he could, saying he wanted to finish some homework before catching an early night.

He heard the door to the other bedroom click shut, and the rustling of the duvet as his aunt and uncle finally got into bed. They had been pretty quiet when they came upstairs, not talking, but now Blaine could hear a soft murmur begin. He sat up sideways, unable to help himself, leaning his shoulder against the wall and rested his head to try and listen.

It wasn’t like he really needed to try. The walls were cheap and thin, and clearly the home owners had never been in a situation that would help them realise that Blaine could hear every word.

You would have thought they would have had the foresight to have this conversation downstairs, but apparently the sense of night time and quiet that came with talking in bed had let the moment out now instead.

He knew he shouldn’t listen. He knew that he would only regret it. But he just couldn’t help himself.

“I see what you meant about him being like a damn brick wall… God, it was like pulling teeth.”

“I think he probably feels the same about us. We’re just going to need more time to adjust.” A sigh. “I’m glad you’re home to help, though.”

A disbelieving snort, muffled by a hand, “Sarah, I barely know how to handle kids, and they’re simpletons. Blaine’s a teenager!”

“You think I’m doing any better? Blaine’s… well, I know they had their differences a lot of the time, but Derek always seemed like such a good father.”

“We saw them, like, twice a year. Crappy family get-togethers are hardly a measure for stuff like that. It’s not like the kid’s turned out-”

“What? What has he not turned out like, Peter?” Her voice had grown sharp, and Blaine’s stomach twisted.

“All I’m saying is that maybe if we had more things in common then I’d be able to relate to the kid. But what, he went to some fancy school, and didn’t you say he was late home today because he does show choir?”

“Blaine’s a wonderful kid who’s had a horrible thing happen to him. Peter, please, don’t rehash this again.”

“I never wanted kids.” A stubborn huff, fractured with an awkwardness of someone who just didn’t know what else to do or say.

“So, what, I was supposed to help social services track down his whore of a mother?”

Blaine flinched at her venomous tone. People always talked about his mom like that when they thought he couldn’t hear them. He could distinctly remember being ten years old, listening at the top of the stairs to a really confusing argument between his aunt and his dad. His dad had been badmouthing Peter, and Aunt Sarah had thrown something back about his own choice of partner, who by that point he hadn’t seen or heard from in over six years. Blaine didn’t think that Sarah had ever forgiven his mother for leaving him and his dad. And he was pretty sure that his dad never quite gotten over whatever had made him dislike Uncle Peter.

“Don’t be daft, Sarah, I never meant that, you know I support you- _us_ taking him in. Even I know we’d make better substitute parents than that gold digger. And keep it down, will you? You’ll wake him up.” A long pause. “Look, I’ll get used to it. Like I said on the phone, it’s just gonna take some adjusting to, having a teenager underfoot, you know?”

“I have an early start at work tomorrow. Blaine usually leaves for school around eight.”

“Sarah…”

“Goodnight Peter.”

The conversation was clearly at an end, and Blaine felt sick. He didn’t move; just remained where he was, leaning against the wall.

That horrible bubbling sensation deep in his throat had returned, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around his middle, suddenly desperately wishing that Kurt was with him.

But he wasn’t.

Kurt was asleep, in his room, in his home.

Everyone was. David was asleep in his dorm room. Wes was asleep in his house. The Warblers were asleep in Westerville. The New Directions were asleep in Lima. They were all asleep in a home, with their families.

And Blaine was alone; awake in a house, one room away from practical strangers, strangers who didn’t even really want him in their lives.

His body shuddered, and he curled into himself more, the bubbling, sick sensation spreading into his stomach, and he was filled with a nervous, panicked energy. A need to move, to do something, to fix this entire mess. Anything. _Anything_ that would make him stop feeling like this.

Blaine’s breath hitched slightly, his limbs feeling itchy, as if they needed to twitch and create some sort of momentum.

It was horrible. All wrapped up in darkness and silence.

Fumbling, Blaine grabbed David’s iPod and violently shoved the ear buds in, flicking easily to the playlist he really needed to hear. He blared it as loudly as he could without the sound carrying past the barrier of the headphones and into the silence of the house. And then he secured his arms around himself tighter, bringing his knees up, still leaning against the wall, and squeezed his eyes shut, focussing solely on the music.

The cloying panic and helplessness that clutched at Blaine remained, but did not get worse. How was it that he was able to keep it more or less together in the light of day, but when the dark and the silence surrounded him each night, he just couldn’t help but feel like this?

Blaine fell into a restless sleep an hour later, and by some small mercy, remained so until just before dawn, when he awoke to a dead battery, a seriously stiff neck, and his aunt’s alarm clock.

_Two weeks._


	14. Chapter 14

****Blaine meandered into the kitchen, and jumped ten feet, his sluggish morning brain still not in gear. Peter laughed, and Blaine returned with an unsteady grin, “Didn’t mean to make you jump, kid! I’m off work till Monday now.”

Blaine somehow slowed his heart rate. It wasn’t like he was scared of Peter, but aside from his brief stint boarding at Dalton, Blaine had always been alone in the house on the run up to school. He simply wasn’t used to company in the early morning. He couldn’t think of any particular way to respond, “Oh. I just came to get some toast…” He stood awkwardly, hovering in the doorway, because this was Peter’s kitchen, not Blaine’s. Peter’s house, not Blaine’s.

But his uncle just shrugged, and returned to the paper he was reading, “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Right.” God, could this be any more awkward? Blaine busied himself at the counter, turning his back to Peter and tried to just ignore the fact that he probably should be instigating some sort of conversation, but had no idea what to say.

He quickly slathered some spread onto a single slice of toast, deciding right then just to eat it on his way out the door. He was halfway out the kitchen when Uncle Peter cleared his throat, “Hey, umm… have a good day at school, Blaine, yeah?”

Blaine paused, and turned, “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” And then he fidgeted, the thought that had been creeping around in the back of his mind all morning coming to the fore, “I, err… I thought that I’d go round a friend’s after school, for dinner and stuff. I get that you’re not normally used to having an extra person around, and well, yeah… I probably won’t be back till really late, cause you know, it’s a Friday and stuff…”

Peter’s eyebrows hiked, and he was clearly unsure how to respond, “Don’t feel like you have to-”

“No, I mean, it was kinda mentioned earlier in the week, so it’s not like…”

“Right, right. Okay then, sure. Great. Have fun.” Peter nodded jerkily, before shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “So, umm…which friend? Just so we know..?”

“Finn. Finn Hudson,” Blaine blurted. His brain seemed to rearrange itself in a fit of confusion, and his mouth just spilled out the closest thing that wasn’t a lie, his promise to his aunt seared into his mind. “He’s the quarterback for the McKinley Titans, and in glee…”

Safer ground, apparently, and a good reply, because Peter actually seemed to know how to react to that one, “Oh, well, that’s great!”

“Yeah…” One word, choking like ash. Especially when a split second later, Blaine realised that not only had he lied – badly – but that also it was Friday, which was family night for the Hudson-Hummels. “I should get to school…”

“Oh sure, see you later, kid!”

Blaine twisted awkwardly out of the room, taking a bite out of his now cooling toast. It stuck in his mouth, and he could barely swallow it. He threw the rest in the trash on the way out.

00000

Blaine had really tried not to be obvious all day, but he just couldn’t bring himself to put the effort into following conversations and joining in with the others. He was too busy trying to think about what he should do after school. One thing he knew for certain was that he did not want to go back to that house tonight. Whether tonight would entail him overhearing his adult relatives having make-up sex, or him eavesdropping on another argument where he was the main subject, he didn’t want to be present for it.

He fiddled with his phone, debating whether to text one of the Warblers. Except to text one of them would be to basically invite himself round one of their houses. And while he loved his friends, he really didn’t want to deal with his friends’ parents right now.

On top of that, Blaine knew how important Friday nights were to Kurt, with his dad and relatively new family, and he wasn’t about to intrude with his depressive presence. Maybe he could just sit in a corner of Breadstix and do his homework? He was pretty sure it was open later than the Lima Bean… but what if some of the others were there? They would ask questions that would only lead to uncomfortable confrontations.

“So, what time’s your uncle getting in today, Blaine?” Finn’s voice punctured his thoughts and Blaine jolted, earning him an odd look from Kurt, who was sitting with them outside along with Puck and Lauren.

Blaine shrugged in a way that he hoped looked casual, “Oh, he got in yesterday. He wrapped up business early, and took an earlier flight.”

He tensed, only waiting a split second before, “Wait, what? Why didn’t you say anything?” The sharpness in Kurt’s voice made Finn frown, but Blaine knew why. It was part of the reason behind him putting off telling his boyfriend all morning. Ever since Blaine had told him about his promise to Aunt Sarah to keep his sexuality quiet around his uncle, Kurt had been twitchy with repressed anger every time the man was mentioned.  

Blaine ran a hand through his hair, “Because I knew how you’d react. It’s fine, he’s cool. Dinner wasn’t…too bad. Although I don’t think he’s thrilled about having a teenager around permanently.”

“Probably too worried about not getting any.” Puck stretched casually, and if it had been anyone else to vocalise that little nugget of wisdom, Blaine probably would have been offended. Kurt was, if the bitchy look he threw the other boy was anything to go by.

Finn blinked, disturbed, “Gross.” And then he grinned, coming to the rescue without even knowing it was needed, “You can come round ours’ after school! You practically live there anyway, and it’ll give your aunt and uncle time to do…stuff. If Burt’s in a good mood, maybe you can even stay the night.” He leaned back, clearly very pleased with himself.

Blaine floundered, looking between Finn and Kurt, who was smiling softly. “I...I don’t want to intrude. I know it’s your family night tonight, and I don’t want Burt thinking-”

Finn cut him off casually, taking an inhumanely large bite of his sandwich, replying around the food, “Dude, you’re practically family anyway. No one’ll care.”

Kurt looked torn between utter disgust at his brother’s eating habits, and a glowing happiness at Finn’s offhand words. Blaine didn’t know what he was feeling, but as Kurt wound a gentle arm around his waist, he knew it was a whole lot better and warmer than what he had felt like last night.

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Kurt must have called ahead, because the only reaction Burt and Carole gave to three boys walking in their door instead of two was a casual greeting and a pair of warm smiles. Finn disappeared almost immediately into the kitchen on the forage for some sort of snack, while Kurt and Blaine headed upstairs; Blaine completely missed the grateful look Kurt sent back to his dad.

Kurt followed Blaine into his bedroom, leaving the door mostly closed, but still slightly ajar out of respect for his dad, “So?”

Blaine frowned with a false innocence, sitting cross legged on Kurt’s bed as the other boy stowed away his boots – unlike the rest of his family, Kurt’s shoe collection was far too big to be kept in family space. “So..?”

Kurt pointedly sat down on the bed a little distance from Blaine, facing him completely, determined to get a serious conversation and at least one straight answer out of his boyfriend before dinner. He just couldn’t keep this up otherwise. “So, what was your uncle really like?”

Blaine shrugged, and it was becoming a gesture that Kurt was really beginning to loath, “I told you, he’s-”

“Cool? Really, Blaine?” Kurt arched an eyebrow, ducking his head to the side slightly in an attempt to catch Blaine’s carefully avoiding eyes.

The other boy fidgeted with his fingers, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to brush the attention away, “It’s nothing. I mean, it’s gonna take some getting used to for everyone and-”

“Oh my god, Blaine, please, this is _me_ you’re talking to, your _boyfriend!_ Please just stop it!” Kurt couldn’t help the raised outburst. He just couldn’t take being around a Blaine who was just such a closed off shell compared to the one he knew and loved. He stood up and paced the room, unable to sit still.

“I don’t know what you want me to say…” Blaine mumbled, and oh god, were they having another fight? Because Kurt really wasn’t sure what qualified anymore. Could you have a fight when only one side was making an effort to engage?

“Neither do I!” Kurt’s voice cracked higher and caught, because suddenly his room just felt so small, and his throat was suddenly just so tight.

How did it come to this? Why did this all have to happen at the beginning of what was supposed to be one of the best years of their lives? Who decided that amongst all of the people in the world to have something so horrific happen to them, it had to be Blaine?

His skin felt tight, and a single jarring denial screamed through Kurt’s brain, because he couldn’t do this, not _now._ What right did he have? He was supposed to be the strong one! He didn’t have any other option!

But it didn’t matter, because now he couldn’t breathe, just looking at Blaine. Blaine, who wasn’t looking at him. Blaine, who, right now, just looked so unlike the alive, vibrant, beautiful boy whom Kurt loved.

Yes, Kurt had cried in front of Blaine since it happened. Of course he had. But he had cried silent, soft tears; tears that had just trickled slowly down his cheeks, unbidden and brief, usually in a quiet moment just between the two of them.

But right now, he knew. And he knew that there was no stopping it, because his skin felt hot, and he _just couldn’t push it down any longer_.

Blaine’s head snapped up as Kurt just let out a wretched sob, and that was all it took, because now his eyes stung and his hands shook, and he could barely look at Blaine, but at the same time, he just couldn’t look away.

“Kurt?”

“This isn’t _fair!_ ” And it was all Kurt could vocalise, because he could barely form words. Juddering sobs tore through him, more violent that even the tears themselves as everything he had held in for Blaine’s sake just came pouring out, “This shouldn’t be happening to you! You…you don’t _deserve this!_ You shouldn’t have to deal with this!”

Kurt didn’t even bother trying to wipe away the tears. He paced, his arms twitching with unsure movement, until he just hugged himself in a lost attempt to get rid of this complete feeling of being out of control.

And what made it worse, right then, right then when Kurt could barely form sentences or make any sense at all, was that Blaine just stared at him with a horrible stoic _numbness_. It was just all so wrong. It was completely the _wrong way around_.

Blaine slowly unfolded his legs, and got up to approach Kurt, who could only pull away, truly hating himself for acting like this, but truly unable to stop. And softly, ever so softly, Blaine’s hands rose to gently clasp onto Kurt’s upper arms, “Please stop…”

His voice was so quiet, so kind. But there was also a note of pleading, something that gave Kurt pause enough to pull out of the ocean of overwhelming emotion he was drowning in and properly lock his gaze with Blaine’s. And he had to ask, because he couldn’t voice anything else, “W-why?”

Blaine just blinked his beautiful, calm amber eyes, before he closed them away from Kurt and the world, nuzzling his forehead into Kurt’s temple, “Because you’re breaking my heart…” The words were quiet, stumbling and catching with an emotion that Blaine couldn’t quite let out.

Kurt made a noise caught halfway between a sob and a disbelieving laugh, and against everything that he usually felt when he was upset, he just found his whole body lurching that one last step forwards, burying himself in Blaine, letting his boyfriend hold him as he cried himself out.

Time bled into itself as the two boys stood in the middle of Kurt’s bedroom floor, entangled in each other, holding each other up, one boy crying the tears that the other just wasn’t able to. The only slight puncture had come with Burt, completely unseen by Kurt, who had his back to the door. The older man had just looked in with a gut-wrenching sadness, before nodding slightly to Blaine as the boy just stared back at him pleadingly for a moment, until Burt just closed the door with a barely audible click.

As Kurt’s tears began to run out, and his body fell into an exhausted, head-pounding numbness, he whispered into Blaine’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry…” Except he knew that those words could not be enough, because what right did he have to be like this around Blaine, when it was Blaine who was in need?

Blaine pulled back slightly, his arms falling lower until they clasped loosely around Kurt’s waist, and Kurt’s arms rested flat pressed up over Blaine’s chest, hands curled at the nape of his neck. And impossibly, incredibly, Blaine just looked up at Kurt, who held his gaze with bright red-rimmed eyes, “I love you.”

Kurt’s breath stuttered, because it was all Blaine needed to say for any fear that he had really screwed up to be washed away. And both of them just stared at each other, sadness deep and flowing between their eyes.

The natural distance closed, and Kurt’s lips connected with Blaine’s, soft and slow and everything. Their bodies just stayed pressed against each other where they stood, their hands trying to melt into each other’s bodies. They kissed with languid gentleness, in a lingering haze of love and closeness, with no desire to stop any time soon, content to let time ebb and flow around them.

Because it was what they both needed.

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Carole crept open the door to her stepson’s room. It had been a stressful evening to say the least.

Not long after the boys had come home, she had been sitting reading in the lounge with Burt and Finn as they caught up on some highlights from last night’s game, when Kurt’s yelling punctured through the floor. They had all flinched and grimaced with varying degrees of worry and awkwardness, but silently decided for now to leave them to it. It wasn’t something to get involved in just yet. 

It had quietened down a little while later, enough so that when it was time for dinner Burt had gone upstairs to fetch them, only to come back downstairs alone a few moments later, shaking his head discreetly at her. The stresses of their first week at school together had clearly finally manifested.

So now, Carole was entering cautiously, balancing a plate of sandwiches and two drinks on a tray. It was coming up to eight thirty, and her parental instincts refused to let the pair be without food for any longer.

What she saw, though, gave her pause. Both boys were laid curled up on Kurt’s bed, soundly asleep as their chests rose and fell gently in tandem with each breath, holding onto each other in sleep as if they were all that was left in the world. Kurt’s eyes were still red even in sleep, and it was obvious that he had been crying to the point of exhaustion, while Blaine just seemed to be trying to burrow into Kurt, the dark shadows under his eyes still stark against his skin.

Carole suppressed a sigh, desperately wishing that there was something she could do to help, instead of just sitting back and watching the struggle. But there wasn’t, not really. She could only do the little things, like placing the tray as quietly as she could on Kurt’s desk. Like gathering the soft throw at the bottom of Kurt’s bed and gently covering the sleeping boys with it, because she knew Burt wouldn’t begrudge this. Like closing the curtains and creeping out of the room without even causing a disturbed twitch in their sleep, shutting the door behind her.

Carole turned away from Kurt’s bedroom door, and nearly ran straight into her son’s broad chest. She pressed an urgent finger to her lips, and he nodded, painfully unsure in his stance as he mumbled as quietly as possible, “Are they okay?”

Carole smiled sadly, rubbing Finn’s arm and guiding him a little way down the hall. “They should be. Just keep the gaming noises down to a minimum tonight, okay hon?” It was an unspoken permission that he could forego family stuff as a one off tonight. She knew Finn didn’t like turmoil, and it wasn’t fair on him to have this horrible situation affect him any more than she could help it.

“Sure, Mom.” He nodded in grateful understanding, and disappeared quietly into his room.

Carole rubbed her eyes before going back downstairs to a waiting Burt.

“Well?”

“They’ve both fallen asleep. I left the food up there in case they wake up, but they just look so tired…”

“It’s not been an easy couple of weeks.” Burt conceded, getting up. “I’ll call Blaine’s aunt; let her know he’ll be stayin’ the night with us.”

Carole smiled lovingly at her husband and his simple, easy decision, “I love you.”

Burt smiled sadly back, kissing her softly as he wound an arm around her waist, “We can’t do a lot. But we can do this.”

Carole sighed, leaning into his embrace, “It’s just not fair… they’re just kids…”

Burt couldn’t dispute his wife’s words, because ever since it all happened, he had woken up each morning thinking the same thing, or worse, imagining Kurt and what would have happened if his heart attack last year had just been that little bit deadlier. And that really would have been worse, because Kurt wouldn’t have had Blaine, whereas now, however badly Kurt thought he was helping, at least he was able to be there for Blaine in a way no one else could.

So Burt just nodded against Carole’s hair, “I know.”


	15. Chapter 15

Blaine stirred from sleep as a weak September dawn filtering through the curtains and onto his face. The now familiar disconcertion of not waking up in his own bed flickered over him for a moment, but was swiftly washed away, because he wasn’t alone in that room his aunt had placed him in, he was in Kurt’s bedroom, in Kurt’s bed, in Kurt’s arms.

And despite everything, Blaine was certain that the encircling glow that accompanied this knowledge would never wear off. He lay with his eyes still shut for a moment, loath to let anything puncture the glow, just dwelling for second on how he had somehow managed to sleep not only through the night, but also through a large chunk of the previous evening as well.

Shored by that rare happy thought, Blaine opened his eyes into a swathe of chestnut hair. Kurt had rolled over during the night, and Blaine had naturally joined him, pressed as close to his boyfriend’s body as he could, arms wound about the lithe waist.

Without any real idea what brought it on, Blaine couldn’t help but smile peacefully at the back of Kurt’s head. He just felt so…normal. _This_ felt so normal. So perfect.

A stab and a hiss of twisting guilt cut through the bubble, a harsh reminder of how they had got to this point, and how he wasn’t supposed to smile yet.

Blaine nuzzled into Kurt’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut against that horrible feeling, because he didn’t _want_ to feel guilty about Kurt, about sleeping, about relaxing for just a brief rare moment. The feeling eased, and his mind drifted unbidden to the evening before, and Kurt.

Part of him wondered if he should have been angry at Kurt. If he should have yelled in kind, ignored the tears, and refuted Kurt’s pain as nothing compared to his own. It was a small, detached part, a part that probably would have clawed its way out if he had been faced with anyone else, anyone other than _Kurt_. Instead, he had just been bewildered, and felt completely at sea, not knowing what to do to stop the beautiful boy in front of him from hurting, but needing to try.

It had been as if that final barrier had been broken, and something had clicked.

 _“They can’t touch us, or what we have…”_   Words said with the most intense strength Blaine had ever seen, words said through tears that only served to solidify their power.

It had been missing, without Blaine even knowing. Since it had happened, Kurt had been quiet, passionate, consoling, and perfectly there.

But he hadn’t let everything out. He had stalled himself, censored his words; even when he nearly breached the silence in the nurse’s office, he had stopped, and Blaine had let him, and they had spiralled all over again.

Until now…

Blaine was broken, but Kurt wasn’t. Kurt cried. And in the strangest of ways, right now, Blaine thought that he could accept this to be enough. At least, this way, someone was crying for his dad.

_Someone was crying for Blaine._

Blaine pulled himself out of his thoughts, his muscles tensing with a need to act, to move. He gently pressed a kiss into Kurt’s mussed hair before carefully untangling himself from his boyfriend, sitting up. He grimaced, feeling disgusting; they had both fallen asleep in their clothes, and the only thing that made this slightly better than the last time he had woken up fully clothed in Kurt’s bed was that he was missing the hangover.

Kurt wasn’t going to be impressed when he woke up, that was for sure… Blaine’s small smile at that thought dropped slightly as he realised he wasn’t really sure what to expect when Kurt did actually wake up. Last night had been intense, and hadn’t really needed words by the end of it. Kurt had just needed to let everything out, and Blaine had just wanted to let him, wanted to connect.

But they say everything is different in the morning.

And now Blaine really wanted to have a shower, to wash away the uncomfortable feeling that clung to his skin, but he didn’t want to wake Kurt and bring on potential awkwardness. Everything right now, just in this bedroom, seemed _okay_. He couldn’t bear the idea of doing something that would break that.

A vague spark of a memory niggled at the back of Blaine’s mind, and he frowned. It was a conversation from a week before the accident, and Blaine had been sitting on Kurt’s bed laughing his ass off as Kurt berated him for leaving his overnight bag right in the bedroom doorway where he had dropped it, not wanting to clutter the Hummel’s living room. Kurt had fallen over it on his way to his laptop and very ungracefully swore as he stubbed his toe on his dresser in an attempt to keep his balance. As Blaine had tried to catch his breath, Kurt had just haughtily snapped, _“You know, you’re here so much, I should just give you a freaking drawer!  It would solve all these problems, especially when you’re back at Dalton.”_

They had both frozen as soon as the words had left Kurt’s mouth, because that was a big-huge- _adult-_ relationship-thing that you just _did not speak of_ , especially when you hadn’t even had sex yet and weren’t even sleeping in the same bed when staying over each other’s houses.

So Blaine had tried to brush it off with a joke, not wanting Kurt to fall back into embarrassment, not just when they were starting to get comfortable talking about these things. “ _I don’t think your clothing range could spare the room!”_

But then Kurt had quirked an adorable smile, cocking his head slightly as he seemed to turn the words over in his head again. A sparkle had lit in his eyes, and he had bent forwards, leaning his palms on the edge of the bed for support as he captured Blaine’s lips with a smiling kiss. “ _No. It makes complete sense. Bring over some extra stuff next time – you can have the bottom drawer.”_ Blaine had raised an eyebrow in fond amusement, and Kurt had grinned, amending, “ _Okay, maybe you can have_ half _the drawer.”_

But there hadn’t been a next time, because next time had been _that night_.

Kurt shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible, and Blaine couldn’t help himself. He crouched down, unsure even why he was doing this, because it had just been a throwaway comment between kisses and laughs, not even something they mentioned again, or probably even thought about. Blaine certainly had forgotten until now.

As carefully as he could, so as not to wake Kurt, Blaine shifted open the bottom drawer, all the time feeling like a complete idiot, because, really, what was he expecting?

Liquid warmth settled in his chest, identical to the feeling that had gripped him a split second before he had confessed those three important words to Kurt for the first time.

Half the drawer was neatly arranged with an impressive array of winter scarves, all rolled up in rows for easy access to match with whatever outfit Kurt was going with that day. They were slightly squashed, as if they had used to be afforded more room.

Four carefully arranged items took up the other half. There was a plain white t-shirt, a thin long-sleeved black sweater, and grey sweatpants which Blaine knew for a fact were incredibly long in the leg for anyone not of an inhuman height. Because the clothes weren’t Blaine’s; they were Finn’s. They were the clothes he had been given for _that night._ And Kurt had kept them? Blaine knew that Carole had put them in the laundry bin, so why hadn’t they been returned to Finn?

In addition, alongside the clothes, was a brand new packet of underwear, shoved down in between the side of the drawer and the sweater so that Blaine knew they didn’t belong to Kurt. He couldn’t prevent the slight _frisson_ that shot up his spine at that thought, that idea, because combined with the drawer, it was just so private, so intimate…

Unbidden, a vibrant image washed to the forefront of Blaine’s mind; an imagined picture of Kurt rearranging the drawer, perhaps on the Saturday after It happened. For Blaine.

Blaine swallowed against the tightening in his throat, and simply reached to scoop everything into his arms, shutting the drawer quietly. He knew where Carole kept the guest towels, and figured Finn wouldn’t mind if he used some of his shampoo; he wasn’t about to delve into his boyfriend’s array of products without a guide.

Kurt continued to sleep as Blaine tip-toed past, and he couldn’t help but dwell for a second on how _normal_ this all felt.

He really did love Kurt.

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“Damn!” A whispered curse poked through Kurt’s sleep, and he frowned, slowly letting his body become aware of itself.

Urgh. His head felt stuffed with cotton wool, and why did his hip hurt?

Oh. Okay, so his fashion sense was definitely not designed to sleep-

Oh. _Oh._

Oh God.

Kurt’s eyes snapped open as the entire saga of his utter breakdown from the previous evening flooded back to him. He must have fallen asleep with-

Blaine?

Kurt sat up, stumbling apologies and utter mortification for his loss of control on the tip of his tongue.

And froze.

Blaine was sitting cross-legged towards the end of Kurt’s bed, his bare toes barely visible beneath the bottoms of a long pair of strangely familiar sweatpants. His hands clearly weren’t doing much better, and as Kurt watched, Blaine obliviously hiked up the too-long sleeves of a thin sweater that was hanging slightly off one shoulder, revealing some white from a t-shirt underneath. A look of slight annoyance marred his features, directed at two precariously balanced books on his knees, a blue biro between his teeth, slightly damp black curls falling over his forehead.

The moment broke as Blaine looked up and realised that Kurt was sitting up and watching him. He jumped, and the thick geometry text book had clearly had enough of the scenario, because it slipped off his knee and fell off the bed with a thud. Blaine threw it a glare that nearly had Kurt laughing out loud, because the whole scene was just so _Blaine_. “Good morning?”

Blaine smiled ruefully, “Morning. Sorry I woke you – I didn’t realise how hard it’s be to do my homework on your bed…”

Kurt just felt he had to keep going with it, because this was easier than talking about what had happened last night, “I do have a desk, you know.”

Blaine just shrugged, his smile suddenly turning shy, “I liked it here.”

Kurt blushed, despite the awkwardness he was still feeling, “I should go to try and rescue my skin. God, I feel gross…”

Blaine nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I know what you mean. Thanks for the drawer, by the way.”

Kurt, who had been inching off his bed while trying to gently unknot his muscles at the same time, just stopped, his head whipping back to look again at what Blaine was wearing.

Great. Wonderful. As if this morning even needed to get any more awkward! He didn’t even know _why_ he had done it in the first place, but it had been a few days after it happened, and he hadn’t seen Blaine all day, and Carole had finished the washing and-

He had just _needed_ to.

Kurt felt his face redden horribly without his permission, “I…Blaine…”

But then Blaine just set his notebook and pen aside, and crawled along the bed to Kurt, a sweet smile on his face, his eyes earnest. “You’re incredible, and I love you.” Blaine leant forward and kissed Kurt tenderly just above his eye, knowing Kurt wouldn’t appreciate him trying to kiss him on the lips until he had brushed his teeth; he had tried it once, and nearly got a black eye for his affections. “Just… _thank you_ Kurt.”

But Kurt couldn’t let it go; he had to know this wasn’t just Blaine putting on another front, “About last night-”

Blaine cut across him, “Don’t apologise, please. Look, I’ve thought about this, so just let me say it. Last night, I slept. Like, _properly slept_. And I woke up earlier, and everything was perfect, even though I still feel like crap, and wrong, and I can’t stop thinking about my house and school and Uncle Peter and Aunt Sarah…and Dad. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and feel like I’ve got so many emotions that people are just gonna start avoiding me because they won’t know who I am any more. Sometimes I don’t think even I know. But…last night, and _you_. Seeing you like that, not holding anything back. It just made me think that maybe, well, that maybe I might be okay. Eventually. Because you are.”

Kurt just stared at Blaine, his mouth hanging slightly open, “I was a mess last night, Blaine.”

Blaine just looked at him, “I know. You cried. For my dad…” He bit his lip, his eyes darting down and breaking contact, his next words barely a whisper, “For me… and I can’t…”

“Oh Blaine…” And Kurt realised what last night had actually done, he realised what final walls had come down between them, and morning breath be damned because he was going to kiss his boyfriend now.

Blaine blushed as they parted, huffing a laugh, “I’m such a freak.”

Kurt grinned, enjoying the air of relaxation they seen to have achieved, “Well, obviously.” Blaine matched his grin, sitting back slightly from where he had leant forwards for the kiss. “Are you staying for the day?”

Blaine shrugged, “Your dad called my aunt, and she left a voicemail to tell me I could take as long as I needed as long as I let her know where I am… I think she’s worried about me and Uncle Peter?”

Kurt nodded, “Okay, well I’m going to go and make myself human. We got groceries on Thursday, so I don’t think Finn’s eaten all the supplies just yet; you can help yourself to breakfast.”

“I don’t mind waiting-”

Kurt cut across him with a look, “Honey, I missed my skincare routine last night and slept in _yesterday’s clothes_. I’m gonna be a while. Plus, we managed to miss dinner last night. So go eat.”

Blaine knew how to pick his battles.

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Burt came down early Saturday morning fully expecting to be alone. He knew that the shower was going, so that probably meant Kurt was in there for the long haul; no way would Finn be up this early, and he had left Carole to her lie-in. So he was pretty surprised to come into the kitchen to find a rather dishevelled version of his son’s boyfriend sitting at the table munching a slice of toast and frowning over something he was writing. Both of them jumped slightly at the unexpected company, and Blaine spoke first, swallowing his mouthful quickly, “Oh, er, hi. Morning, Mr Hummel.”

Burt just blinked, “You always do your schoolwork at 8am on a Saturday morning?”

Burt watched as the boy reddened slightly and ducked his head, “No, it’s just, Kurt’s in the shower and he said I should come down and eat breakfast, and it’s your house, and I didn’t want to intrude, so I just thought I’d-”

Burt raised a hand against the building momentum of Blaine’s explanation, still trying to kick start his brain for the morning, “Okay, okay kid. Seriously, it’s fine, I just wondered. I’ve told you a thousand times, you can just make yourself at home here.”

They were quiet for a while, as Burt begrudgingly put together a Kurt-approved breakfast for himself before sitting opposite Blaine at the table. He watched the teen for a few moments. Blaine may have been looking at his work, but there was no way he was actually thinking about it. And there was no way Burt was just going to ignore that fact. “Something on your mind?”

Blaine winced slightly, and looked up, abandoning all pretence by putting his pen down. Burt didn’t say anything, waiting as Blaine constructed some sort of reply in his head before speaking. He had only really had extended contact with Blaine through Kurt and Finn since it happened, and this was the first time they had actually been alone together. Burt just hoped he was able to handle whatever was going to come next. “I’m really sorry I stayed in Kurt’s room last night, Mr Hummel. I promise nothing inappropriate happened, Kurt was just upset, and I stayed, and then we fell asleep, and I didn’t mean to stay in Kurt’s bed, but I swear we were fully clothed the entire time…” Blaine trailed off slightly out of breath, his words having tumbled out in one great waterfall, lacking a lot of his usual controlled speech.

Burt blinked. _That_ was what was bugging the kid? Of all the things? “Blaine, if I was worried about anything like that last night, do you think I would have just shut the door? Especially with Kurt as he was?”

Uncertainty flickered across Blaine’s face, “Well, no, but-”

“There’s no ‘but’,” Burt cut across him succinctly, and a slightly more comfortable silence fell over the pair again as Burt tried to think about how to approach the next topic he wanted to tackle. Finally, “So, you two, you’re good now?”

Blaine fidgeted with the familiar discomfort of such a conversation, and the more complicated undertones that his particular situation brought about. In the end, he settled for a simple reply, “I love Kurt, Mr Hummel.”

Burt couldn’t help but smile at that answer, because he had already heard as much from Kurt, both of his son’s own feelings, and from when Kurt came home bouncing soon after New York, because Blaine had said those simple words to him, but he had never actually heard them in person from Blaine.  He paused, debating whether to continue or not, but in the end, felt he owed it to Blaine, “And you?”

Blaine’s eyes flicked up to connect with Burt’s, and he was unsettled by the sheer level of emotions he could identify in that silent gaze; the boys were so alike in that regard, even if they didn’t know it. For a moment, Burt expected to be brushed off with a brusque ‘fine’ that neither of them would believe, but then Blaine’s eyes dropped, and he just shrugged slightly, fidgeting with a small hole in the sleeve of his sweater, retracting his hands beneath the fabric, his voice soft, “I don’t know.”

Burt just smiled sadly, “Good answer.”

Blaine’s head jerked up, and Burt knew at that moment that Burt was probably the only adult – hell, probably the only person besides Kurt – who had allowed Blaine’s reply to be acceptable.

The revealing moment of quiet between the pair lasted only a brief moment, because suddenly a fully dressed Kurt was standing in the doorway, looking between them as if he knew they had been talking.

Unspoken words between father and son left any questions unnecessary, and Kurt just let it slide, breezing past his dad with a ‘good morning’, casually trailing a hand along the breadth of Blaine’s shoulders on his way to the cupboard.

Still, Burt didn’t miss Blaine’s lingering glance at him when he thought the older man wasn’t looking, and he only hoped that their brief conversation had opened a door of sorts, and that maybe he had helped Blaine to feel less alone.

Then again, as he watched the pair from across the table, and as he thought back to last night when he had watched his son being comforted by the one boy who could only have felt worse than Kurt did, Burt almost felt obsolete. It was as if the two teens were their own little island, separate from the rest of the world. Part of him knew that this was only an extension of his son growing up, of Kurt being in a relationship.

 But a deeper, darker part of him understood that their whole teenage years had been one big ‘me against the world’, despite their friends, despite their families, and how when they had met each other, it had mutated to ‘us against the world’, in everything, in all things.

He could see it right now, as they weaved closely between each other while Blaine watched Kurt make himself some breakfast and Kurt pointed out an issue with Blaine’s working of his current geometry problem. He had seen it last night, when _Kurt_ , of all people, had allowed someone to just hold him as he cried his heart out, when  Blaine had just stood there holding onto Kurt, despite everything.

They were just a pair of kids, but Burt actually found himself believing that they would be okay, even if this was their first relationship, even if they had to work against the entire world to do it.

Even if no one, not even themselves, thought that they would make it, thought that they wouldn’t make it past all the crap the world kept throwing at them, Burt, at least, knew differently.


	16. Chapter 16

By the time Monday rolled around, Blaine was ready to scream. Every second spent in that house felt like he was being squeezed and stretched in all directions, tiptoeing around his aunt and uncle, trying to be good, trying to be _okay_.

It was exhausting.

The tiny burst of warmth that had visited him on Saturday morning was a thing of the past, erased easily by just two nights spent in his new house. Two nights spent with but a whisper of sleep, and the constant background murmur of worries through the wall.

“Hey man.” Finn pulled Blaine out of his inner thoughts, clapping a hand on his shoulder and leaning against the lockers, “Kurt’s not gonna be in today – he’s got the flu, and Burt’s got him on house arrest. Even took his phone.”

Blaine blinked, a horrible swooping catching him low in the pit of his stomach, “What? How is he? I should go see him-”

“Woah, dude, he’s fine. Completely gross, and a bit loopy from whatever Mom gave him, but fine.” Finn grinned lopsidedly, “So, it’s just you and us for a while, I guess, until Kurt stops looking like a corpse. What class you got first?”

Blaine shook himself slightly, his thoughts still on Kurt and when Burt might let him in to see his sick boyfriend – or at least talk to him on the phone, “Oh…err…American History?”

“Jameson, right? Sweet, I’m just down that hall with Philips. You ready?”

“Sure, I guess?” Blaine blinked in slight confusion at Finn’s rather enthusiastic behaviour, but followed him nonetheless.

00000

Monday was hell. It wasn’t until that day that Blaine realised just how much he equated life at McKinley with Kurt. Not only that, but he couldn’t even hear his boyfriend’s voice; he had been sleeping when Blaine had called that evening. Peter bought Chinese takeout for dinner. Blaine’s dad hated takeout.

Tuesday was hard. Still no Kurt, but Blaine sure as hell saw a lot of the New Directions girls. Having gone to an all-boys school for the majority of his high school life, it was definitely strange to be constantly snagged by the arm and peppered with questions about his taste in hair products. He assumes the girls were missing Kurt too. Blaine certainly was, and the five minute sleepy catch up they had over lunch break wasn’t enough. Aunt Sarah washed Blaine’s Dalton hoodie. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

Wednesday was exhausting. The New Directions boys were constantly _there_. Asking about song ideas for Sectionals, what he thought of the upcoming auditions for the school musical, if he knew why Tina was pissed with Artie again. He couldn’t walk five steps without being accosted. Finally being able to go round to see Kurt was worse. His boyfriend kept _looking_ at him, as if he was feeling _guilty_ for being ill. As if it was Kurt’s responsibility to be with Blaine 24/7. Blaine sat down to watch the game with Peter. Peter changed the channel to Next Top Model. Blaine hated that show, but he still watched it. He looked up the football results on his laptop later.

Thursday was _Three Weeks_. Glee Club was torture, and since when did everyone care _so much_ about his song ideas? Blaine just wanted to sleep. Kurt was feeling a lot better, but Blaine found chatting with his boyfriend somehow jarring, even irritating, and had to leave early before Kurt noticed. People. Everyone. He just _couldn’t breath_ e. Aunt Sarah had looked up college prospectuses for him. They were all on the west coast.

Friday was too much. Because Finn’s an idiot and doesn’t grasp the concept of subtlety. So Friday was the day that Blaine found out how his sick boyfriend had basically ordered his friends to babysit him.

“It wasn’t like that! Come on, Blaine, we’re all just worried about you!” Finn tried to backpedal as the bell rang for the end of lunch.

And Blaine just didn’t care anymore. A feeling of complete lack of control bubbled in his throat, mixed with something else. Something more powerful, something darker. “Whatever. I’m done.” He shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust at the situation and the pent up anger of the week, and turned on his heel. He ignored Finn’s shout after him as he pushed against the tide of students going to classes. He barely paid attention as his feet carried him outside to his car.

00000

“Jeff, we are _not_ doing GaGa for Sectionals. The idea of Kurt’s reaction _alone_ should be enough to intimidate you out of the idea!” Wes pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. This meeting was going to kill him.

As the blond boy launched into further protest, aided by a far-too enthusiastic Trent, David’s elbow jabbed into Wes’ ribs. Wes followed his friend’s pointed eye line, over the heads of the Warblers to a very out of place figure hunched in the doorway, half out of sight.

David cut across Jeff, “As much as I would pay to watch you two-step in heels, Warbler Jeff, the council has already voted against. Now, if you excuse me gentlemen, I’m going to have to hand my council vote over to Wes for the rest of the meeting, or Hartworth’ll have my head for being late.”

Nick winced, “What did you do to piss off the vice-principal enough to get a meeting?”

David just shrugged noncommittally at Nick, exchanging a pointed but covert look with Wes before he disappeared out of the other door, taking a swift loop down the corridor to where he knew he would find Blaine. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Blaine’s arms hung awkwardly and his stance was twitchy, as if he was unsure why he was even at Dalton.

“Wanna go to our room?” They had been roommates for barely a semester, and David had somehow never gotten out of the habit of calling it that.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

The unwarranted venom in Blaine’s tone took David by surprise, as did the challenge in his friend’s eyes. It was the first time since the accident that David had really seen any kind of real emotion in Blaine. He didn’t rise to the anger, instead calmly shrugging with a smile. “I didn’t drive all the way to McKinley to stalk you, did I?”

Blaine seemed to deflate slightly, bitterly replying, “Yeah. That job was already oversubscribed.”

David winced, not liking the sound of that. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

David wasn’t put off, “Movie?”

“You have classes.”

“Actually, I’ve broken my hand. See? Ow.” Blaine stared incredulously at his friend’s blatant lie as he just shrugged and elaborated, “Wes’ gavel is dangerous. All the teachers know that.”

Blaine paused, and then, “Star Wars?”

“Duh,” David grinned. Blaine didn’t even like Star Wars; David and Wes enjoyed the films, while Nick and Trent definitely bordered on the obsessed, but it had always been a Warbler tradition to watch it whenever any of them needed some escapism. And the running critical commentary that Jeff and Blaine never failed to supply was a key feature of that tradition.

Escapism comes in all forms.

00000

They began in silence, putting in the fourth film and just sitting. It passed quickly, easily. Blaine could breathe. Film four rapidly turned into film five and Nick bearing popcorn as he ditched last period.

Film five was interrupted by an infuriated Trent, who was offended they had started without him. Film five ended with a Trent-Who-Was-Definitely-Not-Crying incident, and a rapid scrambling over pizza menus brought up by Jeff, who declared David’s room fair game, effectively inviting them all over for the night. David’s half-hearted complaint, pointing out that Nick lived just down the hall, fell on deaf ears. They were too busy sulking that Wes had turned up and taken control of the pizza orders.

Film six escaped Blaine and Jeff’s wrath only by the virtue that the pizza was really good, and hard to talk around. Unfortunately for the Ewoks, the pizza was finished by that time, and Trent got upset again.

And then the inevitable happened as the night was declared a marathon by a rather manic looking Nick. Blazers were discarded in favour of more movie-marathon appropriate attire, which meant raiding both Nick and David’s closets due to the unplanned nature of the event. Chaos broke out halfway through film one as Jeff declared it to be the only one he could tolerate of the six. Much dialogue was missed, drowned by Trent’s angry demands of retribution and Blaine’s laughter.

Film two tested stamina and comfort, leading to a bizarre tangling of limbs as they suddenly decided it was an excellent plan for all six of them try and watch the remaining films all piled together on David’s bed. Jeff got a not-too-accidental elbow in the face more than once from Trent, Wes somehow fell asleep on top of Blaine, and David ended up on the floor more than once thanks to Nick’s flailing arms.

Film three took the group of friends well past midnight, and it really was a good thing that David’s neighbour had gone home for the weekend. Blaine had joined Wes in sleep, the pair of them curled together in a way that was both hilarious and definitely not comfortable. Nick’s head kept nodding against David’s shoulder, and it was only by sheer belief that Trent seemed to stay conscious. Jeff’s running commentary kept strong. He was stubborn like that.

In an impressive yet freakish feat, Trent dropped to sleep literally as the credits on the final film started to roll. David extricated himself from a drooling Nick, who had dozed off a little before the finale. He popped out the DVD and was shutting down his laptop when Jeff’s quiet voice reminded him he wasn’t the only one who had managed to stay awake. “He’s not good, is he?”

David sighed, joining his younger friend on the carpet where he sat with his back against the bed, “No. I really don’t think he is.”

“I just wish there was something we could do…”

David twisted to look at the subject of their worry, who had wormed his way into a relatively comfortable position that used Wes as a pillow. “We just have to try and be there for him.”

“What was today about, anyway?” Jeff asked.

“He just needed to get out of there, I think… Dalton’s safe.”

“And McKinley’s not?” Jeff asked sharply, and David was thrown by the unusual seriousness in his tone.

“Dalton will always be Blaine’s home. McKinley…McKinley is Kurt’s home. McKinley has Kurt’s friends. I’m not saying New Directions aren’t Blaine’s friends too, they’re just…”

He didn’t need to continue. Jeff just nodded, “Yeah.”

It wasn’t long before the last two boys joined their best friends in the completely impractical sleeping arrangement.

Blaine’s phone remained untouched in his bag.

After film four, it had four unread texts; two from Finn, one from Rachel, one from Mike.

After film five, it had eight unread texts, and two missed calls from Finn and Kurt.

After film six, it had twelve texts, and eight missed calls, including four more from Kurt and two from Blaine’s aunt.

By film one, Blaine’s phone was nearly overloaded, while Wes’ phone, which he had dropped in the pile of discarded uniforms, had a text and three missed calls from Kurt.

By film two, David’s phone, still on silent from his classes, angrily informed him of a missed call from Kurt, and another from Blaine’s aunt. He hadn’t checked it all evening; all his friends were with him.

With the end of film three, completely unbeknownst to the six friends asleep in Westerville, complete panic had settled on Blaine’s family, friends, and _especially_ his boyfriend in Lima.


	17. Chapter 17

“I think I’ve permanently damaged my spine,” Jeff moaned.

“Serves you right for speaking out against the best films ever made. I think my leg’s gone dead,” said Nick, lobbing a pillow at his friend.

David stretched languidly, “Surprisingly, I feel great.”

Wes scowled, “Yeah, because you and Blaine decided I’d make a great pillow.”

“Survival of the fittest.” Blaine shrugged with a smile, “Should’ve stayed awake longer and then you wouldn’t have ended up at the bottom of the pile.”

“He’s right,” Trent said nodding, although he also looked very dishevelled. “You weren’t strong enough.”

“The force wasn’t with you,” Nick added sagely.

Jeff lobbed the pillow back, scoring a direct hit to his smug friend’s face, “I _will_ cause you pain.”

The others laughed, until David said, “As much fun as it would be to watch these two tear each other apart – breakfast?”

“Marry me,” Wes mumbled sleepily, having once again half-buried himself under the covers.

Blaine snorted, poking Wes in the side, “I don’t think you’re his type.” But then, far too quickly, his easy smile slipped, “But I should be getting back to Lima…”

“You sure?” David asked. “I’m not doing much today.”

Blaine smiled softly. “Thanks, but I know you have exams coming up. I’ll be okay.”

The other seniors, Wes and Trent, groaned as David’s face twisted. “Star Wars had erased their existence from my brain. Thanks Blaine.”

“Anytime,” Blaine said smirking.

“Right, David, you go down to the refectory and grab these poor excuses for humanity some food. I’ll let Blaine out the front gates.” Nick took charge as the others said goodbye to their friend, making him promise to come up to Dalton whenever he needed to.

He appreciated it. While their undercurrent of concern was no less pronounced than the New Directions’, they were his best friends. They knew him. It didn’t seem…forced. He wasn’t a responsibility to them.

He was tired, sure, but it was a _good_ tired. A tired created from staying up too late with friends and having a laugh, as opposed to being kept up all night alone, haunted by nightmares.

The good feeling didn’t last long. It never did. It was killed as soon as he stepped through the front door of his aunt’s house, and all the suffocation of his life crashed down on him again.

00000

“ _Blaine!_ Thank god! Where the _hell_ have you been?” Sarah had somehow managed to doze off on the couch in the early hours of the morning, having spent a terrifying night with no idea where her nephew was.

When he hadn’t come home for dinner the night before, she had called his boyfriend’s house, only to find not only that Blaine wasn’t there, but also that he had run off in the middle of school. She was infuriated that McKinley hadn’t even called to inform her.

It meant that it wasn’t until 8pm, following a quick call around by Kurt’s brother Finn to check with Blaine’s other McKinley friends, that Sarah had even been aware anything was wrong.

It was as if Blaine had dropped off the face of the earth. Leaving Peter at the house in case Blaine came back, Sarah had gone around to the Hudson-Hummels to find out more. Kurt was distraught, and Finn looked immensely guilty. They had called everyone they could think of, although some of Blaine’s old Dalton friends were still unreachable. Thank god for the boys’ parents, Burt and Carole, or Sarah was pretty sure she would have fallen apart.

The police had been called, but while they took it into consideration, they weren’t willing to dedicate more than a pair of officers until the morning when it would be deemed more serious. Until then, Blaine was just being a typical teenager. But for Sarah, every eventuality, from Blaine running away, to him lying dead in a ditch, to having committed suicide had crossed her mind and featured in her nightmares.

So when, a little over twelve hours after sheer panic had set in, a slightly tired but otherwise completely unharmed Blaine shuffled through the front door, all Sarah felt was an intense angry relief.

Blaine just blinked at her as she dived forwards, grabbing him tightly by the shoulders, shaking him slightly before pulling him into a hug. He stiffened, “What’s going on? I was just at Dalton. I crashed with David…”

Sarah pulled back, but kept a firm hold on the teenager, her eyes locking with his, “I had no idea where you were! Dear god, Blaine, you disappeared in the middle of school. We couldn’t get hold of you! We even called the _police_ for Christ’s sake!”

Blaine looked dazed at the sudden onset of intense emotion, and then Peter appeared in the hallway, his shoulders sagging when he saw what his wife’s shouting had been about. “Thank god you’re safe. Didn’t you think to call to let us know where you were? Your aunt has been worried _sick_ about you!”

And then Blaine wrenched himself backwards and out of Sarah’s death grip. His eyes were boiling, and Peter was taken aback by the sheer emotion in those depths. He was used to a blank, meek boy who barely said more than his pleases and thank yous, not…this. “I stayed the night at my friend’s! I’m fine! Stop freaking out so much!”

Sarah seemed momentarily frozen by the outburst, but Peter needed Blaine to understand, the remnants of his worry from the previous night forcing his words out at a shout, “Freaking out? How can you be so irresponsible? One phone call, Blaine, that’s all it would have taken! While you live here, you have to-”

Blaine’s icy tone cut him off, “You are _not_ my dad!”

Sarah’s breath caught in a choke, “Blaine…”

Blaine rounded on his aunt, his anger gaining momentum, “And you aren’t my mom!”

“No, she’s not, but _you_ sure as hell inherited some of that selfish bitch’s qualities!” Peter retorted, and instantly regretted it. His words had just slipped out, a combination of worry, the look on his wife’s face at Blaine’s shouted words, and inexperience in how to argue with a teenager.

A horrible silence fell on the house as Blaine just stared at his uncle in complete shock, which quickly morphed into a horrible expression of betrayal as his eyes flicked to his aunt for a second, until in a blink all emotions were wiped clean, replaced by a chilling blank anger. Before either of them could move, Blaine had darted around them both, running up the stairs. The slam of his bedroom door made them both flinch.

“Dammit…” Peter cursed, a sick feeling settling in his stomach, “Sarah-”

“Don’t.” Sarah cut her husband off, her voice hollow. “You don’t want to talk to me right now. I’m going to call Burt to let him know Blaine’s home safe.”

Peter watched as she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen before he slumped against the wall, running a hand through his hair, “ _Shit…_ ”

00000

Blaine’s hands were shaking as he slumped against his bedroom door, his breathing ragged, Peter’s last words ringing in his ears.

He just…couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Dammit, why wouldn’t they all just leave him _alone?_ What right did they have to come barging into his life, dictating his every move? They clearly didn’t even want him in their damned house!

He kicked the door, feeling the impact jolt through his toes. The noise echoed through the house, and it gave Blaine a heady feeling. He kicked it again.

_Why-_

**kick**

_Wouldn’t-_

**kick**

_They-_

**kick**

_Just-_

**kick**

_Leave-_

**kick**

_Him-_

**kick**

_Alone!_

His abuse on the door ended as he slammed his palm hard against the wood, breathing heavily but feeling slightly better. Blaine let his forehead fall to the door with a dull thud, his eyes slipping closed as his shoulders slumped, his exhaustion taking over. He focused on the sound of his breathing, his thoughts jumbled and frantic in their movements across his mind.

With a great force of will, Blaine pushed himself off the door, retrieving his bag from where he had dropped it on the floor, fishing out his phone.

The sheer number of missed calls and texts caused yet another irrational wave of anger, and he viciously deleted them all without reading.

He wasn’t an invalid! He wasn’t their child!

He shouldn’t be expected to check in every five seconds with people, just to make them feel better about themselves for making some sort of half-hearted attempt to reach out to him!

As if the phone knew he was looking at it, the screen flashed with an incoming call.

Kurt.

Blaine just didn’t want to deal with it. Any of it. The original reason for him going to Dalton yesterday kept coming back to him.

_Kurt thinks there’s something wrong with you. He thinks you’re going to break. That’s why he got the others to babysit you._

Unbidden, anger shot through Blaine all over again, and he pointedly hit _Busy_ before quickly pulling up his contacts and calling David.

The call was picked up nearly immediately, “ _Blaine? You okay? I just checked my phone and it looks like people were going a little crazy last night? I was about to call.”_

Blaine ignored the questions, “You working in Dalton library today?”

There was a pause, during which Blaine could practically hear his friend’s confusion, before, _“Yeah…”_

“You mind if I join you? I’ve got tonnes of homework to get through, and I’m not very good at working on it in my bedroom.” The undercurrents in his words were palpable.

Another pause, but David didn’t ask any more questions. _“Yeah, sure. I think Wes was gonna come too anyway. Give me a call when you get to Dalton.”_  It wasn’t pointed out that Blaine had only just driven the long journey to Lima. It didn’t matter that there was clearly something going on.

“Thanks, David – I’ll see you guys in a bit.” He hung up, throwing his phone on the bed before gathering together his laptop and some books, stuffing them in his bag. After a brief consideration, he decided to grab a quick shower with the vague idea that it would wake him up enough for the drive back to Dalton.

Dressing haphazardly, Blaine snagged his keys from the pocket of yesterday’s jeans and slung his bag over his shoulder before making his way downstairs. He was nearly at the door when his aunt’s voice stopped him, “Blaine? Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Blaine, please, Peter didn’t mean to say what he did. You have to know why we reacted the way we did. We just wanted to know you were safe-” Aunt Sarah pleaded.

He scowled, his anger returning full force. They had no right… “I’m going to Dalton to study with David. Happy?” His tone was low and biting.

Aunt Sarah frowned worriedly, “Not really, Blaine. Didn’t you just come from there? I’m sure your other friends like Kurt would want to hear from you to know you’re okay-”

Heat boiled in Blaine’s chest, made all the worse by Kurt’s name yet _again_ being lumped into the ‘friends’ category by his aunt. No matter that he didn’t want to deal with his boyfriend right now, that wasn’t the _point!_ “Whatever.” His voice thrummed with anger, “I’ll be back sometime tonight.”

He vindictively enjoyed slamming the front door behind him as his escaped the toxic prison of his supposed new _home_.

He needed to get back to Dalton. Things were okay there.

He could forget. He could breathe.

At Dalton, he wasn’t just a porcelain doll people were too afraid to touch.

He wasn’t breakable.


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt dived to pick up his phone early on Sunday morning. He still hadn’t been able to get Blaine to answer any of his calls, and it was really starting to worry him. After the sheer panic he had felt on Friday night, terrified that something horrible had happened, Kurt just really wanted to hear Blaine’s voice. The caller ID was Blaine’s house number, and he felt his hope fade slightly as he answered, “Hello?”

“ _Kurt? It’s Sarah Fielding, Blaine’s aunt.”_ She sounded exhausted, hardly any better since he had last seen her on Friday.

“Hi, Mrs Fielding. Can I help you with anything? Is Blaine okay?” Kurt kept his voice forcibly light.

There was a sigh on the other end, _“I’m afraid he’s not doing so well. He’s not speaking to us at all anymore. I wondered if you were feeling well enough to come over and see him? He’s still asleep right now, but I’m sure he’d appreciate the company today. Peter and I were thinking of going out.”_  Kurt winced at the woman’s voice. She seemed at a complete loss of what to do.

“I feel nearly as good as new. I’m sure Dad won’t mind me coming over. I’m going to be back at school tomorrow anyway, but it’d be great to see Blaine before then. When should I come over?”

“ _As soon as you like, really. Thank you so much, Kurt. I’ll go and wake him up now.”_ The relief in her voice twisted in Kurt’s throat. What was going on with Blaine?

“See you soon, Mrs Fielding.” Kurt hung up.

“You off out?” His dad had been listening to the conversation as he continued to eat breakfast in their kitchen.

Kurt turned his phone over in his hands, thinking, “Yeah. Blaine’s aunt wants me to go round and see him.”

Burt shrugged, “Well, as long as you’re feeling up to it, I’d say that was a good thing.”

“Blaine hasn’t been answering my calls. Or my texts. He _always_ replies to my texts. What if I make it worse?”

Kurt desperately sought out his father’s eyes. The older man sighed, “You won’t find out unless you go over there, kid, and trust me, better to make it worse now than do nothing and let it build.”

“I guess…”

“Well, Carole and I are going out for the day, so if you guys want to come back here, that’s fine. Although I don’t think Finn was planning on going anywhere.”

“Thanks Dad. I’m gonna get going.”

But even his dad’s words wouldn’t dispel the nasty feeling that crept under his skin.

00000

When the door opened, Kurt was faced with a man he had never met before. He was at least as tall as Finn, and as intimidating as Kurt knew his dad could be to others, but there was an exhausted worry there too, “You must be Blaine’s uncle. I’m Kurt.”

“You’re Finn’s brother? Sarah said she’d called.”

Kurt forced himself to suppress the wince at hearing his stepbrother’s name; why would Blaine’s uncle know more about Finn than him? “Yeah, she said Blaine could use some company.”

The man’s eyes skated over him for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough to make Kurt bristle. It wasn’t even like he was dressing that outlandishly today either, and yet this man was still standing there, judging him. “Right. Sure.” He snorted, a hollow sound that filled Kurt with a strange mix of dread and distaste, “He’s in his room.”

Kurt sidled past the man as he moved slightly aside, only to nearly collide with Blaine’s aunt. She smiled at him before turning to her husband, “Go wait in the car, Peter, I’ll be out in a second.” She turned back to Kurt as they were left alone, “We’ll be out until late afternoon, but there’s food in the kitchen, so help yourselves… I’d… I’d really appreciate it if you both stayed in the house. Unless of course he wants to go back to yours, but please let me know if that’s what you decide?”

Kurt frowned at the woman’s nervous worry. He had half been expecting a lecture of ‘no funny business’, like he might have received from his dad. “Sure, of course Mrs Fielding.”

“Thank you, Kurt.” She smiled wanly, before leaving him alone in the hall.

The unsettled feeling that had haunted Kurt since last week prickled under his skin. He climbed the stairs and made his way to Blaine’s bedroom, knocking softly on the closed door before letting himself in. “Blaine?”

The boy in question was lying on his back on top of the duvet, hands resting on his stomach, clutching something. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was holding, as a thin white cable could be seen snaking out from under his hands, up to little buds in his ears. But it was Blaine’s eyes that really got Kurt’s attention; dull hazel, staring up at the ceiling, not even flicking to him briefly in acknowledgement.

For a moment, Kurt stood awkwardly in the doorway, before stepping in and closing the door behind him softly, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed next to Blaine’s hip. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Blaine to make the first move.

After what felt like an eternity, as every breath was measured and the silence was only filled by the faint murmur of music coming from the headphones, Blaine sighed deeply. He pressed pause on the iPod, but didn’t make a move to take out the earbuds, “So, what? Aunt Sarah called you to babysit me while they’re out?”

Blaine’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. Kurt winced, “She’s worried about you, Blaine. But I would have come over anyway. I’ve missed you.”

Blaine huffed an incredulous laugh, “Sure.”

Kurt frowned, the single word stabbing at him, “What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve barely seen each other for a week, during which time all I could think about during the day was you, at school without me. And then last Friday, when your aunt called? I was terrified Blaine.”

Blaine didn’t answer, but a dark shadow crossed behind his eyes. He pressed play on the iPod.

Kurt frowned, not liking the evasive way Blaine was treating him. After a few more minutes of being completely shut out, Kurt had had enough. He leaned forward and tugged both headphones out of Blaine’s ears, “Blaine. Stop it. Don’t shut me out; don’t do that to me.”

The words seemed to have some sort of impact on Blaine, because he finally made eye contact, hoisting himself up on his elbows to look at Kurt, “You can’t keep controlling me.”

Kurt stared, eyebrows shooting up at the change in tone, but also at the words, which seemed completely out of the blue. “What are you talking about? Since when is me being worried about you, _‘controlling’_ you?”

“So you _didn’t_ ask your friends to babysit me all last week?” Blaine’s eyes were cold and accusing, but it was the hint of betrayal in their depths that really got to Kurt.

Kurt winced, but protested, “It wasn’t like that! I was scared something might happen – you know what McKinley’s like, and you’re still the new kid, and-”

“I can look after myself, Kurt.” Blaine cut across him acidly, “McKinley’s not my first public school. You didn’t need to tell your friends to do that.”

There was something in those words that twisted. “They’re your friends too,” Kurt replied quietly, “It wasn’t like it was a job, they were happy to spend time with you.”

Blaine snorted, flopping back down on the bed, “Well, good for them.”

The silence was heavy. Kurt couldn’t take it. “So, where were you on Friday in the end?” He kept his voice soft, attempting to sound light.

“With my friends. You know, the ones who don’t spy on me.”

 _Spy_. There was extra meaning in that word that was so loaded, so precious and personal to them, that Kurt flinched to hear it come out of Blaine’s mouth with such venom.  Kurt voice rose, “I was worried about you, Blaine!”

At those words, Blaine sat up, drawing his legs underneath himself as he leaned against the wall, “Well I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience for you as well!”

Kurt floundered, “As well…what? No, Blaine, you’re my _boyfriend._ I’d worry about you even if everything was roses and puppies and we were both still at Dalton!”

“It’s not your _job_. I’m _fine!_ I don’t need all you people breathing down my neck. Why can’t you all leave me alone?” Blaine’s voice cracked slightly as his volume rose.

Kurt bit his lip, hand reaching forward to try and take Blaine’s own, only for his boyfriend to wrench himself further out of reach. Kurt felt tears burn at the back of his throat, “Please don’t do this to me, Blaine. Please don’t shut me out.”

“Why does everything have to be about you?” Blaine spat back. “Because it’s not. My dad _died_. He’s dead, and he’s not coming back, and I’m sorry if that’s horrible for you, or whatever, but this isn’t about _you!_ ”

Blaine’s words hit just as hard as he had intended, and Kurt found his own voice rising to meet the building emotions, “Don’t you understand that I’m always here for you? I _love you_ , Blaine!”

 _“I don’t care!”_ Blaine yelled back, his fists balled tightly, his shoulders hunched as his body vibrated with repressed tension.

Kurt reeled back, and after a second, even Blaine’s eyes seemed to widen slightly in shock at his own words.

No one spoke, Blaine’s stuttering breathing the only sound. And then Kurt nodded slightly; a regal detached jerk of the head, perfected long ago. “Okay,” he replied simply, quietly, getting up off the bed. Blaine seemed frozen in place, his eyes fixed unblinking at the same spot, not even attempting to follow Kurt’s movements. “Okay. I’ll see you at school, Blaine.” He bent slightly, placing the barest of kisses on the crown of Blaine’s head, before leaving the room.

Blaine remained unmoving where he sat, silent, still shaking.

Kurt shut the bedroom door behind him, making his way gracefully down the stairs and out of the house, getting into his car. He slotted the keys into ignition and put the car in drive.

He drove all the way back to his house, parking smoothly in the driveway, turning off the engine.

One breath, two breaths.

The first sob shook his entire frame. And then he found he just couldn’t stop.

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Finn had been in the kitchen when he heard a car pull up into the drive. He thought nothing of it, assuming that it would soon be followed by the sound of the front door and Kurt’s voice, probably Blaine’s too.

He took another few bites of his sandwich, but heard nothing more. He shrugged to himself, mind wandering to how he was going to get through the next level on his new game. After he had finished eating, he made his way to go back upstairs, but something made him pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a car on the drive. Frowning, he looked out of the window, and his stomach lurched. Why was Kurt just sitting in his car, alone?

Finn didn’t even think twice about whether he should go outside or not. He was already out the door. As he got closer, he realised Kurt was bent over slightly. Kurt was crying.

No, not crying. _Sobbing_.

Finn knocked on the window, not wanting to scare his brother by opening the door straight away. Kurt jumped out of his skin anyway, head whipping to look up at who it was. Finn opened the door, “You wanna come inside?”

Kurt nodded, tears abating slightly, although that was probably more from the shock of seeing Finn than anything else. He allowed his brother to guide him inside and sit him down on their sofa. After Kurt continued to sit there in silence, tears still rolling down his cheeks, Finn couldn’t stand it any longer, “Dude, what happened?”

There was a heaving breath as Kurt’s face scrunched up and his fingers tried to find purchase within each other. He shook his head a few times, before shrugging helplessly, fixing Finn with the worst look his brother had ever seen. “I think Blaine and I just broke up.”

Finn gaped, “You, you what?”

He didn’t get an answer, as a fresh wave of sobs took over Kurt’s body. Finn had no idea what to do. Whenever Rachel cried, she attached herself to Finn like an emotional limpet, and all he had to do was silently stay put. But Kurt just sat next to him, clutching his stomach as if the sobs were physically painful.

 If Burt were sitting here instead of Finn, he would have hugged his son, because Burt was _Burt,_ and he could do that and make it okay even if the crying person didn’t want to be hugged in the first place.

Should he call one of the girls?

The fact was Finn had no idea what to do with a crying Kurt.

With his crying brother.

That revelation hit something in Finn, because really Kurt was just like most other guys. So he just shifted slightly closer, making himself comfortable, sitting with Kurt as he cried. He didn’t try to say anything. He just sat there.  At some point, Kurt’s sobs abated slightly, and his head fell to rest lightly on Finn’s shoulder.

The two brothers say in silence for a long while, until Kurt murmured, “Thanks Finn.”

Finn shrugged with one shoulder, “You’re my brother. It’s no biggie.” He felt Kurt’s face against his other shoulder crease in a weak smile. “What are you gonna do, man? I mean, what really happened?”

Kurt sighed deeply, his breath still stuttering slightly with emotion, “We said some things to each other. We’ve never really fought or shouted properly before; it just all got out of control.” He paused, and then tensed his jaw, “But I’m not going to let him push me away, however hard he tries. I won’t give up on him.”

Finn recognised Kurt’s stubborn voice, and wholeheartedly believed it.


	19. Chapter 19

Blaine drove into school as late as possible on Monday morning, desperate to avoid everyone. He hated himself for what he had said to Kurt yesterday, and yet at the same time, deep down, he hated Kurt for just leaving him like he had. It had only taken three simple words.

_I don’t care._

He didn’t know why he was surprised. Of course Kurt was going to leave him. Who would want a mess like him for a boyfriend?

It just left him feeling hollow. And all that could fill the space was a dull, throbbing anger.

Blaine was so tired. Tired, angry, and numb.

Wasn’t it supposed to get better? Wasn’t that what everyone promised?

His dad was dead – how could it possibly get any worse?

But all Blaine could see was his life spiralling out of control. He didn’t want to have to work for it to get better, for everything to stop hurting. It shouldn’t be this hard.

He just wanted it to stop.

Why wouldn’t it stop?

Blaine rounded the corner that would lead him towards his locker, and froze. The corridors were mostly emptying now of students, as everyone made their way to homeroom.

Except there was someone leaning against his locker.

Kurt.

Kurt wasn’t meant to be there.

Kurt wasn’t meant to be looking at him with a small, beautiful smile.

Kurt wasn’t meant to push himself up from Blaine’s locker and hold out a takeaway cup of coffee.

Blaine stopped in front of Kurt, and blinked once, completely not knowing what to say. What _did_ you say to a boyfriend/ex-boyfriend who you shot down, not even a day ago?

Kurt wasn’t meant to be there.

He was meant to never want to talk to Blaine again.

A warm polystyrene cup was pressed into Blaine’s hand, and he automatically grasped hold of it. Kurt took a further step into his personal space, and much to Blaine’s increasing shock, pressed a chaste but firm kiss onto Blaine’s lips.

In McKinley.

In the middle of the corridors. Of McKinley.

With other students around.

_What?_

Kurt stepped back slightly, but only enough to make eye contact, still very much closer to Blaine than they would normally allow at school. “You should get to homeroom before the last bell. I’ll see you at lunch.” He smiled again. That same, soft, beautiful, completely-not-angry smile. Blaine didn’t say anything; he just stared, blankly. But Kurt didn’t seem to be waiting for a reply, as he leant forwards again and dropped another brief kiss, this time on Blaine’s cheek, “I love you.”

And then Kurt was gone, and Blaine was standing alone in the nearly empty corridor next to his locker, clutching a Lima Bean coffee, utterly bewildered.

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Kurt dropped down into a seat next to Mercedes, and promptly relaxed into an exhausted slump. His friend winced, “You look like crap.”

He rolled his eyes, “Thanks for the support Mercedes.”

Her expression softened, “You wanna talk about it?” He didn’t answer, just watched impassively as their tutor attempted to explain to Brittany why ‘Lord Tubbington needed to be taken to rehab’ was not a valid excuse for tardiness. “Is it Blaine?”

For a long moment, Mercedes didn’t think her friend was going to answer her, but then, “He’s trying to push me away. It wasn’t a good day yesterday. We had a fight. I yelled, Blaine yelled, I left.”

“Because of what happened on Friday?”

Kurt shrugged with one shoulder, “Partly, I guess.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “It’s all just becoming a lot, you know? I just can’t let him think I’m going to walk away because of one fight. I’m not going to give up on him.”

“No one thinks you will. You’ll both get through this.” Mercedes smiled softly. Kurt sighed, dropped his head onto his girl’s shoulder.

“I’m just really tired.”

The pair let the buzz of student voices wash over them in a background silence, until it was broken by another voice.

“Maybe you should take a step back.” The voice was soft, but clear and sure.

Both Kurt and Mercedes turned as one to face Quinn Fabray, who had been sitting behind them, listening. “Excuse me?” Mercedes deadpanned, frowning at their fellow Glee Club member. “Are you really gonna go there? After everything we did to be there for _you_ two years ago?”

Quinn shook her head, “I’m not saying abandon him. But Kurt, look at you. You’re a senior in high school – just a kid like the rest of us, like Blaine. It shouldn’t be your job. You’ve got a life too – school, college applications, family, friends. You’re not Blaine’s husband; you’re his high school boyfriend of not even a year… He’s not your responsibility. He’s got family, friends. If you let him put it all on you, you’re-”

“Quinn.” Kurt cut across her, his eyes icy and scarily calm. “I appreciate what you’re saying, and your concern for me, but I don’t need it. I love Blaine. I love him, and I’ll keep on loving him. I don’t care if you think that’s immature, or naïve, or short-sighted or pathetically lovesick.” The bell for first period rang, but Kurt ploughed on, “Nothing you say will change the fact that I love him, and I intend to be there for him, just like I know he would be there for me if it had been _my_ dad. It’s not a case of me _deciding_ to let it take over my life. Blaine _is_ my life, and I’m sorry that you don’t have anyone in _your_ life who you could imagine doing the same for.”

Quinn and Mercedes stared with open mouths at Kurt’s speech, as did a few of the surrounding students who had been in earshot. “Kurt, I-”

He had already stood, shouldering his bag as he stalked away out of the classroom.  Mercedes sighed at the blonde girl, “I know you meant well, Quinn, but next time? Think.”

“I’m just worried about him!”

“We all are,” Brittany added in, linking arms with the pair of girls as they walked to class, “But anyone can see that you don’t _tell_ him that. He loves Blaine. You’re not going to get him to do anything other than _keep_ loving Blaine and being there for him. Obviously.” The ditzy blonde shook her head at Quinn with a sad placating smile before splitting off to get to her first period.

Mercedes just shrugged at Quinn, “What she said.”

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The next few days passed in an epic battle of wills. Blaine just honestly didn’t know why. Why Kurt was bothering. Why Kurt was completely ignoring how Blaine was acting.

If Blaine was silent and unresponsive, Kurt would kiss him and tell him he loved him.

If Blaine was angry and yelling and hostile, Kurt would kiss him and tell him he loved him.

His aunt and uncle had given up trying to engage him in conversation by Monday night, while the rest of the New Directions were clearly giving him space. An angry Blaine was not someone they had ever encountered before, and many of them found it entirely disconcerting. Scared of saying the wrong thing, they distanced themselves.

But Kurt wouldn’t.

_“I don’t need you.” “I love you.”_

_Silence. “I love you.”_

_Walk away. “I love you.”_

_“Why are you here?” “I love you.”_

Kurt was forever calm, placid and non-reactive but still constantly _there_ with those same three words.

Blaine didn’t find out until months later that Kurt often cried himself to sleep that week, that every time Blaine pushed back, Kurt was holding on with one less thread.

It was _One Month_ , the Thursday following their argument, when Blaine finally couldn’t take it anymore. He just had to _know_.

It had been a silently angry day, and Blaine had sat in the back of Glee Club only because it meant he didn’t have to go home as soon. He didn’t sing. He hadn’t sung properly since that time on the stage three weeks ago. As everyone filtered out chatting, Blaine found himself once again left alone in a room with Kurt. Finn had hurried away, saying he would wait for Kurt by the car, hating to be anywhere near Angry Blaine.

Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine’s cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

Silence. Kurt was stopping to expect anything else. He didn’t know which response he hated more; the complete blankness or the biting words. He was halfway across the room when, “Why?”

Blaine’s voice was so quiet and unexpected that Kurt’s reply wasn’t particularly eloquent, “What?”

Kurt turned around, expectantly looking at Blaine, hoping that maybe his persistence was actually paying off. The other boy was staring down at his hands in his lap, fingers entwining in an uneven rhythm. It took a minute or so before Blaine seemed to gather himself enough to look up and make eye contact with Kurt, “Why? Why do you still love me?”

Kurt’s breath caught at the utter hopelessness in Blaine’s tone. How was he supposed to answer that? How could Blaine even _ask_ him that? He took one tentative step forward, back towards Blaine, “It’s not something I can turn on and off, Blaine. One argument or a few rough days – it’s not going to send me running.”

“It should.”

“No, Blaine, it shouldn’t. Not if I love you. Not if you love me.” Kurt swallowed, really not wanting to continue but knowing he had to. His stubbornness and resolve had helped him survive the last few horrible days, but there was one doubt that just hadn’t left him alone since the first argument in Blaine’s bedroom. “Do you?”

Blaine flinched, words tumbling out jerky and uneven, “Of _course_ I do, but that’s not the _point!_ You shouldn’t still love me! You shouldn’t still be here! You shouldn’t be wasting your senior year on me, on the complete _train wreck_ that is my life!” Blaine was on his feet now, hands gesturing, his voice rising and strung with self-deprecation, “ _Why do you still love me?”_

Kurt strode forward and jumped up the step to be level with Blaine, catching his boyfriend’s gesticulating arms by the wrists, forcing him to still. Blaine swallowed harshly, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled, his eyes stubbornly fixed on a point on Kurt’s chest. Silence reigned, and Kurt let it take hold for a beat, until Blaine finally lifted his eyes to meet his own steady blue gaze. Kurt measured his words carefully, “Because you are perfect. You are my perfect boyfriend who has had something _horrible_ happen to him, something that you never deserved. But that doesn’t stop you from being the boy I fell in love with. I’m not going to stop loving you, Blaine. I’m not going anywhere. I told you I’m never saying goodbye to you. It took me too long to find you. I _love_ you.”

Kurt waited as Blaine’s honey coloured eyes searched his own, how they darted in rapid movements, analysing every muscle in Kurt’s expression, every syllable in his words.

 Blaine rolled the promises and declarations over and over in his head. Deep down, he had known all Kurt said to be true event before Kurt said it. That was what scared him, because he couldn’t lose Kurt too. Kurt was all he had left now, but Kurt was the one who was perfect, and what kind of perfect person would want a broken boyfriend like Blaine? It was easier to hate, easier to stay angry, easier to protect himself, easier to say goodbye first.

It would be easier to walk away now. It would be safer, and hurt so much less, because sooner or later, Kurt was going to realise he would be better off without Blaine ruining his life.

“I love you too. I’m so sorr-” He didn’t get to finish, Kurt had already cut him off with a kiss.

Blaine fell deeper, clung on harder, and god, he wished Kurt had let Blaine push him away with angry words and hostile silence.

Because now, if Kurt left, Blaine knew he wouldn’t survive.


	20. Chapter 20

There’s always a trigger. Something so small that perhaps you didn’t even see it coming; you don’t realise when the tiny seed has taken root. But it has. It’s there.

Because the world kept turning, people’s lives kept going.

For everyone else, it was normal. And Blaine wanted that. He wanted to stop feeling like he was dying.

Over one month since It happened, and of course time had kept moving forwards. McKinley drama was a constant, and that wasn’t going to stop just for Blaine. There was the saga surrounding West Side Story; something to do with Sam and Finn fighting it out for the lead role. Kurt and Blaine had been relatively removed from that one; it had seemed so trivial, so pointless.

There was the drama of the girls, and the founding of the Troubletones. Again, little of that touched the two boys, alone on their little island of impartiality.

Relationship drama was ample, and, to be frank, removed from their lives. It was too exhausting to try and keep up, so Blaine hadn’t bothered.

College applications had slapped them all in the face; Kurt especially with his and Rachel’s fight to get into NYADA. Nevertheless, New York was a definite, they all knew that. They had to get out of Ohio, out of Lima. It was the one aspect of the future that Blaine had actually been able to comprehend, because he knew that if he didn’t think about it, he would end up losing Kurt to New York while he faded away in Lima. So he researched potential colleges, thought hard, kept quiet while at the same time helping Kurt with his NYADA ambition. He would make it to New York. They both would.

The distractions, little as they were, helped beyond measure.

Until Blaine took it upon himself to visit his friends at Dalton.

It was Tuesday, and into a new week. Blaine and Kurt were closer than ever, and Blaine found himself less readily angered or irritated at school and around his friends; at his aunt’s house was still another matter. Life seemed less compact and oppressive than it had the previous weeks, and Blaine was desperate to grasp hold of that feeling, because maybe it meant he was getting better. That _life_ was getting better.

One month was surely enough time? One month, and the pain should start to fade?

Blaine was fine. He could be fine. Kurt would make him fine.

He thought he knew that.

But there’s always a trigger.

And that trigger was a new Warbler named Sebastian Smythe.

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The Warblers had warned him. He had heard stories, of both fun times and tragedies. He couldn’t go five minutes without hearing about _Blaine Anderson_.

It was starting to get boring.

That was until said subject of constant conversation walked through the door of senior commons and joined in an impromptu Warbler performance. He sang with them, he kept perfect time in what was obviously a tried and tested Warbler dance routine. He had energy and grace and _damn_ if that little extra titbit of knowledge about his recent loss didn’t make him all the more appealing.

The damaged ones were always the best, and it didn’t hurt when they were completely out of the closet and easy on the eyes.

Blaine Anderson wasn’t boring anymore. He was hot, and Sebastian wanted him. All he had to do was get him away from his Warbler babysitters who now swarmed around him. Oh, and probably deal with that ‘boyfriend’ thing.

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It had taken some persuasion, but Blaine had convinced the Warblers that another all-nighter wasn’t necessary and that he probably should be heading back to Lima. He had visited them to give them tickets for the West Side Story opening performance. Kurt was Officer Krupke, and he knew it would mean a lot to his boyfriend if the Warblers were there, even if it wasn’t the role he had really wanted. Blaine just wanted to say thank you to his boyfriend for putting up with him.

“What are you doing now?”

Blaine turned to see a Warbler remaining – Sebastian. The taller boy had introduced himself after the performance. Blaine shrugged, “My boyfriend’ll be out of rehearsal at five and we’re going for coffee.”

Sebastian smirked, “So you’ve got time to kill?”

Blaine blinked, slightly perplexed, “I guess? Don’t you have stuff to do?”

“And miss out on getting to know the renowned Blaine Anderson?” Sebastian slung his arm over Blaine’s shoulders in a gesture that was rather close for someone he had only just met, “Any good places for coffee around here?”

“Well, there’s the Lima Bean… but I’m meeting-”

“Great!” Sebastian cut over Blaine, “We can take your car? I board, so I can always get a cab back to Dalton.”

“Isn’t that a little expensive?” Blaine asked dubiously, not thrilled at the idea of an extended car ride with this guy, but he was new, and a Warbler, and Blaine felt that he should make an effort.

Sebastian grinned patronisingly, “That’s cute.”

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Kurt yawned pointedly as they went through yet _another_ run through of Rachel and Sam’s scene. Artie kept changing every little thing, and _honestly_ , did the entire cast really need to be present for this? His phone buzzed, and Kurt sighed in relief at the rescue, even if it was only a text.

_Can we meet at the Lima Bean instead? A new Warbler wanted to hang out. Love you xxxx_

Kurt smiled at the end of the text. Since he and Blaine had resolved things, Blaine had been making a point of telling Kurt he loved him at every opportunity.

_No problem – have fun with the guys and I’ll meet you as soon as Artie lets us go! Love you too xxxx_

Kurt looked up from his phone and exchanged a glance with Tina, who rolled her eyes pointedly at him. They both had to look away to avoid laughing out loud. Kurt’s phone buzzed again. He frowned, opening his phone again.

_Not guys just 1 plz escape soon love you x_

Kurt stared at the text. He had never, not in the entire time he had known Blaine, seen his boyfriend send a text without any form of punctuation, let _alone_ abbreviate. He had always assumed it was against Blaine’s genetics or something. He must have sent the text in a massive hurry, or perhaps not wanted it seen?

And what was ‘just one’ supposed to mean? That it was just Blaine and this new guy? Kurt had never really seen himself as the jealous type, but there was something about Blaine’s second text that hit something low in his gut. He checked the time – 4.15pm. He knew his lines inside and out. He could do opening night this evening if he needed to. And the chances of them actually getting to anything he was in looked to be pretty slim.

Screw this.

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Sebastian was very into friendly contact. It wasn’t necessarily something Blaine was used to, either. The Warbler boys didn’t count – they were his friends. And the New Directions guys tended to limit themselves to back slaps and stuff like that. Other gay guys though?

Daniel had been his friend, never anything more. They had both just been trying to figure out who they were, and the terror of school had overridden anything else. Neither of them had been that open.

Jeremiah, looking back on it now – still not something Blaine could do without cringing – had always liked to keep at least a table between them, and never really liked contact.

Kurt, during Blaine’s oblivious stage, had always been the recipient of Blaine’s huggy and touchy form of affection, never the instigator. Obviously that had changed a lot now, but there was still that element there.

Sebastian just couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and it was making Blaine _very_ uncomfortable.

The only problem was, he couldn’t work out if he was overreacting or not, because he had nothing to compare. If Sebastian were just any other Warbler, he knew he wouldn’t be thinking anything of it, but he wasn’t. He was gay, and seemed to have a habit of touching Blaine’s arm. Or shoulder. An accidental hand graze as he passed Blaine his coffee.

Hell, as he _bought_ Blaine his coffee.

 Blaine took a leaf out of Jeremiah’s book and put a table in between him and Sebastian. He just didn’t know… what was he supposed to _say_ to this guy? He’d lived in _Paris?_

“You’re just so… you know… you’re out there…” Blaine shook his head, folding his arms across his chest, not really knowing where to look.

Sebastian just stared straight at him, eyes raking, “And your mysterious boy with a tragic past thing you’ve got going on? Super hot.”

Blaine really did stare at Sebastian then, stuttering on air slightly, because no one says things like that, especially not so bluntly, especially not to Blaine. On reflex, he could only manage, “Look, Sebastian… I have a boyfriend.”

“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” Sebastian smirked appreciatively, “I hear grief sex is the best. I could really help you out if he’s lacking. Sometimes you just need someone to help release the _tension._ ” He leant forwards on the table at that last word, somehow making it sound obscene as it rolled off his tongue.

Blaine tried to ignore him and ploughed on determined, “N-no. No. I mean, I really care about him-”

“He doesn’t need to know.” Sebastian grinning suggestively, so relaxed and calm when Blaine just felt like he was drowning.

Blaine shook his head, placing his hands on the table in an attempt to ground himself, “Look. I just never want to mess up with him, in any way. He’s really great-”

Sebastian cut over him, leaning in further with a triumphant grin, “Oh, this is delicious. You’re a _virgin!_ ” Blaine flinched, hating the way Sebastian said it. “You are! You two haven’t sealed the deal. How long has he even been your boyfriend?”

“S-since February, but that’s not-” Blaine stumbled.

“Well then, all the more reason for you to let me help you out. A sweet ass like yours should never go to waste, and trust me – I know how to make you feel good.” Blaine’s brain shorted out as he felt Sebastian’s foot move up the inside of his leg; he had no idea what to say, what to do, “All that pain you’re feeling? Like things are never going to be normal again, like _you’re_ never going to be normal? I can fix that.”

Blaine felt like he had been punched. Some of Sebastian’s words were far too close to home, but he forced himself to get a grip, pulling his leg back with a harsh jerk, “I think you should go.”

Sebastian smirked, as if it was only a matter of time before he had his way. Blaine shivered, both hot and cold under the other boy’s gaze. Finally, after far too long, Sebastian sighed, “Well, if that fashion sense and girl-face are anything to go by, looks like your _boyfriend_ just arrived.” He snorted, “Yeah. You’re not getting anything anytime soon, and he’s not even a fun kind of virgin, trust me, I can tell these things.”

“Please leave.” Blaine somehow managed to get his voice to be steady and firm. Somehow managed to conjure a hard edge to his tone.

“As you like, _sugar_.” Sebastian seemed to enjoy how the inappropriate pet name made Blaine react; how the other boy averted his eyes and couldn’t help but flush. “You know where I’ll be if you want me to make you feel good. That’s all sex is, in the end.”

Blaine didn’t look up as Sebastian stood. He didn’t see Kurt glare in confusion and distaste as a boy in a Dalton blazer pushed purposely past him. He didn’t raise his eyes until someone familiar sat down at his table, “Blaine? Who the hell was that guy?”

Blaine didn’t want to worry Kurt. Nothing was going to happen; _god_ was nothing ever going to happen with that guy. There was no need to add to their considerable pile of issues and problems. So he raised his eyes and smiled, “Just a creep. I can’t believe he’s a Warbler! Thank you for rescuing me.”

Kurt smiled, tilting his head in that adorable way Blaine loved, “Anytime. Let me just grab us some more coffee, okay?”

“Sure. You can tell me all about Artie’s tyranny.” Blaine smiled tightly.

He didn’t need to say anything. There was no way on this planet that he could even _consider_ Sebastian’s offer.

But his words, on the other hand…

There’s always a trigger.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder warning for homophobic language.

It had never been something Blaine had noticed in great detail before. Going to an all boys school for a large part of his high school life probably hadn’t helped matters, and sure, he’s always had that longing feeling of, _why can’t I have that?_

But now he was seeing it _everywhere._

Stupid Sebastian. Stupid Sebastian and his stupid words. But there they were:

Mike and Tina.

Santana and Brittany.

Finn and Rachel.

Mercedes and Sam.

Hell, people he didn’t even know!

They were all so happy, so normal, so loving, so comfortable.

And then there was Blaine and Kurt. Loving grazes, adoring looks, sadness, the odd peck on the lips. That wasn’t normal. They weren’t normal. Why couldn’t they be normal? They loved each other, Blaine was certain of that, and he was fine. It had been over a month. He was fine.

They should be normal.

They were ready.

Right?

Kurt deserved normal. Blaine could give him that, and when he did, Blaine would be normal too.

So Blaine made a plan.

00000

Blaine wandered into the auditorium after morning classes. The New Directions had been hanging out here quite a lot – most of them were in the production of West Side Story anyway. Blaine spotted Kurt immediately.

His boyfriend was sitting on the top of the piano, legs casually dangling as he shuffled through some papers, crossing things out every so often, and adding words here and there. Blaine grinned, barely distracted by Rachel’s argument with Artie about whatever stage direction he was picking her up on now.

“Hey!” Blaine whispered, not wanting to disturb the others.

Kurt’s head snapped up, and he smiled, “Hello. Will you be joining us?” Blaine hadn’t been a regular feature at the lunch hour rehearsals, often retreating to the library or somewhere else quiet. Kurt had never said anything about it, but it was obvious he was pleased to see Blaine.

Blaine hopped up on stage walking up to Kurt, “Don’t tell me you’re learning lines – you’ve been sorted for ages!”

“No. I’m drafting my letter to NYADA. I think I’m going cross-eyed.” Kurt grimaced.

“Just tell them you’re fabulous.” Blaine shrugged smiling.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Unfortunately, NYADA isn’t my boyfriend.”

“I’d hope not! C’mon, give it here.” Blaine reached for the annotated pages in Kurt’s lap.

“Oh, no honey, you don’t have to…”

“I want to!” Blaine leant forwards, dropping a chaste kiss onto Kurt’s lips, standing between his boyfriend’s legs as Kurt remained sitting on the piano. Blaine turned slightly, leaning one hip against the piano and casually hooked an arm around Kurt’s waist as he started to read.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine’s insistence, but there was an unusual spark there too. For a moment, Blaine thought that Kurt might pull away from the rather intimate position, something they usually avoided at school. But Brittany and Santana were always cuddling and in close contact, and Blaine was sick of being the odd couple out.

It seemed that Kurt’s hesitation was brief, as he was soon relaxing, letting his body fold slightly so he could lean both arms on Blaine’s closest shoulder and rest his head on them, reading the words again in time with his boyfriend.

The best part was that no one said anything or made a comment.

Well, except Santana, but she didn’t count.

 _One Month, One Week_ , and this could work.

00000

Ever since Blaine had made the decision to give Kurt as normal a relationship as possible, he had felt _free_. It was like Kurt was a drug, and Blaine just couldn’t get enough. There was no way Kurt hadn’t noticed the change in his boyfriend, of course. They had even talked about it, Friday night after the second show.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what’s all this in aid of?” Kurt grinned, still flushed from the excitement of curtain call, his arms looped over Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine had watched backstage that evening as opposed to having a seat in the audience.

“What, this?” Blaine surged forwards and caught Kurt’s lips again with a kiss that Kurt eagerly returned.

Kurt let out a breathy laugh, “Yes, that.”

Blain shrugged, smiling shyly as he idly played his fingers up Kurt’s back, “You’re incredible. I just… you’re amazing. I never want to lose you.”

Kurt grinned easily, missing the weight behind the last words, “You’re never going to lose me. Well, except for the next half hour while I get out of this costume and make myself presentable for Breadstix.”

Blaine pouted, “I have to wait outside?” He wrinkled his nose, “And we’re going to Breadstix again? We were only there last night!”

“Rachel and Finn were moaning that they were missing out. Like everyone doesn’t know what they were doing instead…” Kurt’s faced flushed, Blaine’s hands stilled their movements.

Everything was suddenly very hot, standing backstage in each other’s arms. And then Blaine finally broached what had been playing on his mind, “D’you… do you think… I mean, do you want to? I love you, and I can’t imagine being with anyone _but_ you. I just… everyone-”

Kurt cut across him, “You did _not_ just use the word ‘everyone’ in the same sentence as the idea of us losing our virginities.” Kurt seemed to blink at what he had just said, and then blushed bright red.

Blaine huffed out a laugh, “No more baby penguin…”

Kurt slapped Blaine on the arm, spell broken. “Shut up. Go and find Brittany and make menaces of yourselves while I get changed.” But then he paused, taking a quick glance around to check that they were still alone in their secluded corner, “I love you Blaine, and when _we’re_ ready… I know we’ll know.”

He gave Blaine a lingering kiss in the shadows, before smiling and disappearing. Blaine marvelled after him. Kurt was so different from the boy he had first met. So confident and alive. So perfect.

He deserved a normal boyfriend.

00000

“ _Blaine!_ What about your aunt and uncle? _Mmph_ - _!_ ”

Peter frowned, distracted from the television. It was gone midnight, and he had been waiting up for Blaine to come home. Sarah had gone to bed a little under an hour ago, as she had to go into the office the next morning. Despite it being a Saturday, they couldn’t afford to turn down weekend work. He had heard the car door slam, and the front door, and just assumed it was Blaine coming back from that restaurant after party again.

Peter couldn’t say he was thrilled by the late hour, but at least Blaine was starting to call ahead again to let them know where he was. They were even getting a few words out of him around the house.

“They’re asleep – it’s fine!” His nephew’s voice was breathless and urgent, and it was very clear he had brought someone home with him.

“But what if your uncle-”

“ _Screw him!_ I’m sick of tiptoeing around all the time. I won’t make you do that anymore!”

That was it. Blaine knew the house rules. Yeah, the kid had been through a lot recently, but he couldn’t just be allowed to get away with everything. Peter was sick of seeing his wife permanently worried, all the time. She had barely had time to grieve herself she was so busy trying to do right by Blaine.

Peter levered himself up from the sofa and stalked out towards the hallway, intent of catching Blaine in the act and tearing one into him.

He didn’t get further than the doorway. Seeing his assumedly straight nephew with his tongue pretty damn far down the throat of that tall waif-like ‘best friend’ of his was enough to freeze Peter on the spot, _let alone_ seeing how he had the other boy pressed against the wall, hands wandering and a leg between-

“ _Blaine!”_ Peter was genuinely impressed with himself that he had formed one word.

Blaine pulled back and fixed his uncle with a disinterested kind of glare. The other boy – Kurt wasn’t it? – went very pale, which was an impressive feat considering his skin tone. Kurt pulled his hands away from Blaine, tried to take a step back into a more appropriate position, but Blaine barely moved, his arms still wrapped around the other boy, _and were his hands up that kid’s shirt?_

“Mr Fielding…” The Kurt kid seemed to be attempting to make some sort of sentence, but clearly couldn’t work out how to proceed. Not surprising really, considering the shade of red Peter knew his face was currently turning.

“Kurt. I think you should be getting home. It’s late. I’m sure your dad is worried.” Peter didn’t know how he made his voice sound so level. He certainly didn’t feel calm and level right now…

Blaine scowled, but there was something else behind his eyes – was that fear? Either way, there was _definitely_ fear in Kurt’s eyes. The boy bit his lip, “He’s fine. He knew I’d be out pretty late, and I-”

“I wasn’t asking, Kurt.” The words were jerkier this time, because dammit, Peter _really_ needed the pair of boys to have some distance between their bodies right now.

Kurt flinched, but there was a steel in his eyes, and Peter realised he should be preparing for a fight, because all fear had definitely evaporated from this kid’s eyes. It was only emphasized as Kurt snaked an arm tightly back around Blaine’s waist.

But then Blaine’s posture changed, and he turned away from his uncle to look at Kurt. “It’s fine. You should go.”

Kurt still looked uncertain, his eyes darting between Blaine and Peter, assessing, “If you’re sure? I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Blaine nodded, before throwing a glance at Peter, and then pointedly pulling Kurt to him for a kiss that was decidedly _not_ something Peter needed to see him doing again, “Blaine!”

Blaine ignored him, still looking at Kurt, “Drive safe.”

Kurt looked a lot like he wanted to reprimand Blaine for that move as well, but instead just nodded, repeating, “I’ll call you when I’m home.” One last glance to Peter, and what did the kid think he was going to do?

The front door closed behind Kurt, leaving Blaine and Peter standing alone in the hallway. They stood in silence, listening to Kurt’s car door, and then the sound of an engine as he pulled away.

“Living room. Now.”

“I’m tired,” Blaine dismissed, but he didn’t move, eyeing Peter. It took the man a second, but he realised Blaine’s eyes were flicking between the stairs and his uncle, while keeping his back against the door.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t give a damn. You don’t pull something like…” He gestured at the spot on the hallway wall where the two boys had been pressed only minutes ago, “ _like that._ You don’t do that under my roof and think we’re not going to talk about it. Now get in there. I don’t want to wake your aunt.”

Blaine still didn’t move, and Peter found himself taking a step towards him without really thinking about it, not really sure what he was trying to do, but trying to break the standoff. In an instant, Blaine’s hands went up in surrender as he flinched back a step, “Fine. Fine, I’m moving.”

Peter was so not ready for this conversation. In so, so many ways, he did _not_ want to have this conversation. His blood pressure wasn’t fairing great either.

Peter shut the door behind them to muffle the noise and hopefully not wake his wife, and then turned to Blaine, who had wrapped his arms around himself and somehow managed to put the sofa between them in a very short space of time. Kid was fast, he’d give him that, “What the _hell_ was _that?_ ”

Blaine shrugged , some of his defiance gone and replaced by wariness. The shadowed sliver of fear was still there in his eyes, “I was kissing my boyfriend goodnight.”

Boyfriend. Blaine had a _boyfriend._ Peter’s head whirled, his stomach turning sickeningly at the word. Such a simple word, and at the same time, so, so complicated.

He swallowed, “So we’re calling practically having your hands down another _boy’s_ pants ‘kissing’ now, are we? You think I want to come across that kind of _behaviour_ in my house?”

Blaine shrugged, “Get over it. He’s my boyfriend. I love him, and we’re gonna act how we like.”

“Like hell you are!” Blaine really did take a full step back then, and all bravado was well and truly gone. Peter always did have a problem with raising his voice too quickly. He dropped to a hissing whisper, not wanting to involve Sarah in this, “You’re a seventeen year old kid, and while you’re under my roof, you’re going to behave with respect to the people who are letting you live with them!”

Peter blinked, regretting his words as something in Blaine’s face twisted, repeating his words with a flat tone. “Letting me live with you.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I never thought you’d be gay.”

“Well I am.” Blaine’s arms tightened around his torso, his eyes never leaving Peter’s face.

“Of course you are…” He hadn’t meant his response to come out so bitter, so mocking. He couldn’t help it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A breath. A beat. “It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t… Jesus, Blaine, you have to understand how hard this is for me!”

“For _you?_ ”

 Everything was coming out wrong. This wasn’t working. He decided to take a different tact. “I just want you to understand how unacceptable your behaviour was just now with that boy.”

“Kurt. His name is Kurt,” Blaine snapped.

“Kurt,” Peter agreed. “I don’t want you sneaking around with that kid.”

“ _Sneaking?_ How dare you make it sound like Kurt and I were doing something dirty or wrong! I was kissing my _boyfriend_. My boyfriend, who’s been a part of my life for way longer than _you!_ ”

Well, there went the theory of this being some strange reaction to his dad dying.

“Your dad knew? He knew you were gay?” Peter hadn’t meant to sound so incredulous.

“Yeah. He did.”

“And he was okay with it?”

“Not everyone’s a narrow-minded bigot.”

Ouch. Blaine was nothing if not vocal.

“Fine. He had house rules concerning Kurt then, I assume?”

Blaine seemed completely thrown by the question, “Y-yeah… Of course he did…”

“And I’m guessing those rules didn’t include coming in past midnight and fornicating with your boyfriend in the hall?”

Blaine blushed deeply and ducked his head at Peter’s bluntness, “We weren’t, we didn’t…”

“Right. Well, it’s late, so I think we should both be getting to bed. In the morning, I want a list from you of all the rules your dad had about Kurt, because until I get my head around this, that’s what we’re going to be following.” Blaine simply gaped at Peter, shocked at his offer.

“I… okay…”

“Get to bed. Don’t wake your aunt.” Blaine nodded, and dazedly made his way out to the hallway. He paused and turned at Peter’s voice. “And Blaine? Don’t try and take liberties with the list. I’ll know.”

He waited until he heard Blaine’s door click shut upstairs, before collapsing on the sofa and resting his head in his hands.

_Boyfriend. In love. Kissing a boy. Kurt. Gay._

Peter was torn between the intense desire to throw up, and burst out laughing. Of all the sons in the world, and it was Derek’s kid who had ended up being a flaming homosexual. But not just that, a gay kid who wasn’t in the closet, but pretty damn out there, in a stable relationship with a boy who, from what his wife said, seemed pretty decent.

Sarah. There’s no way she hadn’t known. It hurt that she hadn’t told him, or asked Blaine to tell him.

Did she really think that he would have flipped out? Did she believe that he would have thrown Blaine out?

He supposed she did. After all, he had always been very good at playing the part.

 _“What the_ fuck _is this?”_

_“Shit, Derek, please, you can’t tell Sarah-”_

_“What? Tell her she’s engaged to a fag who gets down on his knees in a filthy bathroom stall for some stranger’s dick?”_

_“It’s not like that!”_

Derek had hated him. He had just never worked out if it was because Peter had married his sister, or because of what Derek had discovered at his bachelor’s party that night. It was probably both, at the time.

_“She’ll never forgive either of us if you tell her.”_

_“Bullshit! I’m not letting my baby sister marry some sick freak like you!”_

_“I’m not gay!”_

It had taken so much to persuade Derek not to say anything. To convince him that it had been a onetime thing, a phase. To allow Peter to live the lie he had needed to live. To marry the girl his parents had wanted.

He had never quite been able to bring a kid into it though. To make them a family. He couldn’t quite take that step.

_“Please don’t marry him, Sarah, please.”_

_“What the hell is your problem, Derek? Just because you had a screwed up marriage, doesn’t mean I’m going to!”_

_“He’s not right for you!”_

_“Well, I love him, so get over it!”_

He had grown to love Sarah even if it wasn’t in the way she deserved. He had buried everything down deep, even if that had meant living a life that felt partially skewed. He had accepted his life choice, and would stick with his wife to the end.

Nevertheless, someone somewhere definitely had a sick sense of irony. Give Derek – _Derek –_ a gay son, let Derek die, lump Derek’s kid with Peter.

And yet, amidst all that, Peter couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of Blaine. Blaine, who Derek had known was gay, managed to get over that fact, and still love.

Blaine, who openly used words like _boyfriend_ and _love_ , even to a man whom he expected to hate him for who he was.

This was why he had never wanted kids. He had never wanted to bring them into his warped sense of life and love.

Still, if someone as bigoted as Derek had been able to accept Blaine for who he was, then there was no way in hell Peter was going to be beaten. He would get over himself. He had to. For Blaine’s sake.


	22. Chapter 22

Aside from silently handing his uncle the requested list of his old house rules about Kurt, Blaine had succeeded in avoiding his family quite well. Saturday had been pretty full of West Side Story, and hanging about backstage as the cast and crew stormed through their matinee and closing night performances.

Kurt had been incredible, practically radiant on the stage, right where he belonged. Blaine couldn’t believe he was able to call that boy his boyfriend. He couldn’t believe that _Kurt_ would want to be with him, after all he had been forced to put up with, after all of Blaine’s drama.

“Blaine?” An accompanying knock on his bedroom door preceded his aunt as she entered his room, “Can I come in?”

Blaine shrugged, shifting his book of sheet music off his lap. He probably should have been doing the homework he had due for tomorrow morning, but he wasn’t sure he cared enough. “You already have.”

He watched as his aunt’s lips thinned, but she managed to hold any irritation in, “Well, I just thought we should sit down together.” She paused, perching on the edge of his bed, a just an arm’s distance away from him. “Your uncle and I talked last night, while you were out. About you, and Kurt.”

Blaine’s stomach twisted. He did not want to have this talk. He made a non-committal noise, and picked up his music again, absently flicking through it as if he wasn’t listening, when really, his attention couldn’t have been sharper.

“We’ve decided that it would be best for all of us to take things slow on this. Peter and I, we’re both on a massive learning curve here, and we could really use your help. The easier you make it for us, the easier this will be for you. Now, Kurt is always welcome here, as long as it’s in an appropriate manner. And Blaine, Friday night was _not_ appropriate.” When Blaine didn’t make a move to acknowledge her, she sighed and continued, “I should never have asked you to hide part of yourself from Peter, that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do with you sometimes. You’re too much like your father…”

Blaine flinched at her words, and she seemed to realise that perhaps it hadn’t been the best thing to say. Before she could explain herself, he cut over her, “I have homework to do.”

Sarah nodded, “Blaine, I-”

“I’ll let Kurt know the rules. Please leave.”

His aunt swallowed and nodded, rising from the bed, “Okay. Dinner’s at seven.”

She closed the door behind herself, and Blaine listened as her footsteps faded slightly. He heard Peter’s low voice rumble up from a distance, “Well? How did it go?”

“He’s so distant. I just don’t know what to say to him anymore.”

“It’ll take time. You told me that.”

“But what if it doesn’t? Peter, what if… what if we’re not enough?”

Blaine’s ears pricked, and he frowned, creeping towards the door and edging it open.

“Sarah, the kid’s grieving, he’s not crazy!”

“Ssshhh! He’s only upstairs! And I _know_ he’s not crazy, but Peter, his behaviour can’t be healthy! It’s like he’s a completely different boy!”

“He doesn’t need to see anyone, I told you last night! Even if we could afford it, which we can’t, I won’t let you do something so drastic, not yet. Derek’s barely been in the ground five minutes. Give Blaine time.”

“Well, good job he’s not your nephew, then, isn’t it?”

Blaine didn’t want to hear anymore. He couldn’t. Dashing back into his room, he dived onto his bed, jamming his headphones into his ears and put his iPod on full blast, drowning the world out.

But he couldn’t drown out his thoughts, he couldn’t stop the horrible sensation clawing its way up his throat, couldn’t help the utter feeling of helplessness that swelled around him.

_Broken. Wrong. Lost. Pathetic. Ruined. Crazy._

 He just needed to feel normal again. Why was that so hard?

00000

“Blaine?” Mr Schuester’s voice cut through the boredom of the classroom. Blaine didn’t look up from his list of Spanish verbs.

“Blaine, would you join me outside, please?” Another voice, quiet and almost timid; Miss Pillsbury.

This time he did look up, fixing the pair with a cool gaze, “No, I’m good here, thanks.” He knew exactly why she was here. He was meant to have a counselling meeting with her at eleven, and he hadn’t showed.  Because he didn’t need to. He was determined to be fine, and fine people didn’t go and talk to counsellors.

“Blaine, that’s no way to talk to Miss Pillsbury,” Mr Schuester admonished. “Please do as she asks.”

Blaine sighed, flopping back in his chair and fixing the petite teacher with a glare, “Look. I can either sit in silence here, contributing to my education, or I can sit in silence in your office and contribute to your paycheck. I’d much rather option A, and as my teacher, I think you should support that option too, though in the end, it’s irrelevant, because I’m not moving until the bell, and there’s nothing you can say to make me.”

“How about detention for speaking to a teacher like that?” Mr Schuester took a step forward, incensed by Blaine’s attitude.

“Will…” Miss Pillsbury frowned at him for his reaction, but Blaine just laughed.

“You can give me detention six ways to Sunday, but you still won’t get me in her office.”

To her credit, the mousey little school counsellor appeared unruffled, and simply returned Blaine laugh with a gentle smile, “I’ll see you next week then, Blaine.” She turned to Mr Schue with a slightly colder tone, “Sorry for having disturbed your class.”

Blaine blinked at Miss Pillsbury’s rather odd reaction, but his confusion was interrupted by Puck’s crow of impressed support at his rebellion from the back of the class.

00000

“I really hate Mondays.”

Kurt laughed gently, curling his arms around Blaine and leaning back slightly on the sofa, letting Blaine press his ear to Kurt’s chest, “I figured. Wanna put in a movie, or keep on with the junk tv?”

Blaine shifted, “Nah. I’m good. Where’s your family, anyway? They’re usually here by now.”

“Oh, didn’t I say? Dad and Carole are having dinner with Mr Schue to discuss the campaign; they won’t be back till really late.”

“Oh.” Blaine shifted again. “And Finn?”

Even though he couldn’t see Kurt, Blaine could practically hear him rolling his eyes, “Puck’s house. Apparently there’s a new zombie/gangster/alien shooting game out, and all the glee guys have piled round his to try it out. I mean, seriously, how can it be any different from its predecessors?” There was a pause, and then Kurt seemed to rethink his words, “Except you and the Dalton guys like them, don’t you? Oh, god, Blaine, I‘m sorry, they said you could join if you wanted, but I didn’t think, and you probably would’ve wanted to, wouldn’t you, and-”

Blaine laughed, twisted in Kurt’s arms and cutting him off with a kiss, “Kurt. Stop. It’s fine. I don’t care!”

Kurt breathed again, smiling sheepishly, “Sorry…”

Blaine rolled over completely so their chests were touching, and propped himself up on his elbows either side of Kurt’s torso, “I’m _much_ more interested in this new information that we have your house to ourselves for a considerable length of time.”

“Oh… oh!” Kurt’s brain took a second to catch on to what his boyfriend was implying, and he grinned, allowing Blaine to lean forwards for a deep kiss.

The temperature in the living room climbed quickly, and Kurt really wished he hadn’t worn so many layers that morning, because, wow, it really was hot in here. Time passed and, despite the constraints of the sofa, they had flipped, hands wandering and kisses heavy, and _oh_ Kurt’s body sizzled with sparks as Blaine’s hips rolled up at _just_ the right angle.

For a second, Kurt’s brain flat lined, because surely this was a really, _really_ good idea. Blaine arched underneath him, pulling back for a second, his eyes dark as they captured Kurt’s, before he surged forwards again, pulling Kurt down deeper, harder, longer, until they could barely breathe.

But then Blaine’s hands were fumbling with Kurt’s belt, and something in Kurt’s brain managed to grasp hold to a vague sense of coherency. He tried to still Blaine’s hands, “Blaine, wait-”

Blaine didn’t appear to be listening, too lost in the haze of the moment, “Come on Kurt, don’t you just want to do it? We love each other, don’t we? Why wait? Why stop, come on-”

His hands pushed under Kurt’s shirt, lips trying to recapture those of the boy above him.

“Blaine, stop this.” Kurt frowned, his voice sharp, all sense of arousal disappeared. “Blaine. Blaine!” Kurt yelled his boyfriend’s name, breaking through the haze as he successfully grasped hold of both Blaine’s wrists and pinned them to the sofa.

“Kurt, what-”

“What is wrong with you?” Kurt yelled, pulling back now that he had his boyfriend’s attention. He scooted backwards, sitting on the far arm of the sofa, facing Blaine, who was still mostly lying down, “We’re on my dad’s _sofa._ I thought we wanted it to be special, not… _this.”_ He gestured between them, confusion on his face.

Blaine sat up, his face flushed red with hurt and embarrassment. “I just wanted us to get it over with!”

“Get it _over with?”_ Kurt repeated back incredulously, his arms winding around his middle defensively.

“Yeah! Because then maybe we can just move on from all this, this _twisted_ thing we have going on! It’s like being stuck in the biggest rut in history! You think what we have is healthy, what we have is a normal high school relationship?”

“I did before today!”

“Well it’s not! None of this is _normal!_ Everything is so messed up, and now I’ve gone and screwed _this_ up as well! All I wanted to do was give you something normal, something we probably would have done by now if it wasn’t for… And it would have been special, and romantic, and wonderful, and I wouldn’t have fucked it all up! But no, you’ve got a headcase for a boyfriend, who can’t even do the smallest thing right!”

Kurt blinked at the change in track, “Blaine, where is this coming from-”

Blaine wasn’t listening, he was on his feet now, pacing, twitching. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, deal with _me!_ Why can’t we just have this _one thing_ that isn’t completely screwed up by what happened? I thought if I could do that, do _this,_ then maybe everything else would start to be normal as well, but I can’t, and it’s not, and-“ Blaine gasped for breath, his shoulders heaving as his hands curled into fists and he delivered a solid kick to the coffee table that made Kurt jump violently. “I _hate it!_ I hate Peter, and Sarah, and their fucking rules and pathetic looks and the way they treat me. I hate my new house, I hate my new school, I hate my life! I hate what it’s made me do to _you!”_

 Kurt swallowed, tentatively climbing off his perch on the sofa, holding out his hands to try and placate his boyfriend, “Blaine…”

But Blaine wasn’t listening, his body practically vibrating, his lungs barely drawing in air as his voice rose in pitch. “I hate this, I hate every day, because it’s not getting better, whatever everyone says! I hate how they expect me to smile, I hate how I think I have to! I hate all of them, and I hate what this has made me! I hate _him!_ I hate my dad, because he, because he _left me!_ He left me, and now everything’s so fucked up! I’m fucked up, and I’ve fucked _us up!_ I hate him! _I hate him!_ He’s d-dead-” Blaine’s voice cracked, and his legs gave out with waning energy, his knees hitting the floor with a dull thud, “I hate him! _I hate him!_ ”

Kurt’s heart wrenched as he watched the boy he loved fall apart, fall apart so completely. Blaine’s voice dissolved, cracked and broke as his words formed into some kind of mantra, his arms twitching in erratic movements, one moment wrapped around himself, one moment thumping the ground, one moment holding his head; his body simply not knowing how to respond.

“ _I hate him!”_

Blaine’s voice wavered, and his breaths came in ragged gasps, as if even air was too much for him to process right now. Kurt dropped to his knees beside him, carefully wrapping the thrashing boy up in his arms tightly, staying solid as Blaine’s hands caught hold of Kurt’s in a vicelike grip, both pulling him into his body and trying to push him away at the same time.

_“I hate him!”_

Blaine breathed in ragged gulps of air as he fell apart, as Kurt held him, as his body jerked involuntarily with pent up pain and hurt.

_“I hate him… I hate him…”_

Kurt didn’t move. He just held Blaine tighter, there, on the floor of his living room, pressing his check into Blaine’s hair, trying to keep him grounded, trying to help him weather it, all the while, murmuring to him, _“I know, I know…”_

00000

_One month, one week, four days, three hours, twenty one minutes, fifty four seconds._

_Remember that._

_It's important._

_It’s the space of time between the worst phone call of Blaine life, and the moment when he actually believed the news that it told him; the news that had torn his dad away from him, forever._

_One month, one week, four days, three hours, twenty one minutes, fifty four seconds, and Blaine cried._


	23. Epilogue

“Hello? Finn? You there?” Blaine kicked the front door open, giving his key a slight jerk to combat the sticky lock.

“We’re in here, dude!” Finn’s voice hollered out of the door to Blaine’s right. He closed the front door behind him, dumping his bag on top of a small crate full of god-knows-what, nearly tripping over an empty box on his way to follow his friend’s voice.

“Woah!” Blaine’s feet tangled as he tried to hop over a few more cardboard boxes adjacent to the door, and he toppled through, only to fall straight into his boyfriend.

“You okay there?” Kurt smirked at the Blaine-bundle in his arms.

Blaine righted himself, and sent a pleading look to Finn, who was sitting on his newly claimed bed, “Please tell me you’re going to find someplace to put all your stuff. If _I_ can nearly kill myself walking to your room, I don’t want to know what’ll happen to you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Blaine. I’ve got a cataloguing system all planned out for Finn.” Rachel came bustling out of the tiny bathroom that was next to Finn’s room and started sifting through a pile of clothes.

Finn just shrugged, “I figured it’d just be better if Rachel did it.”

Blaine frowned, “I’m not sure if-”

Kurt rolled his eyes at his step-brother, patting Blaine’s arm, “Trust me, honey, if she doesn’t do it, no one will, and I’m not visiting you if this place is allowed to sit at Finn’s level of what he deems acceptably ‘clean’.”

“Dude, I’m sitting _right here!_ You lived with me for over a year and it didn’t kill you!”Finn protested.

“Yeah, but Carole won’t be here, and this apartment is a lot smaller than our house,” Kurt shot back.

Blaine just smiled happily, winding his arms around Kurt’s waist, “When did they leave?”

The Hummel-Hudson family had arrived in New York absurdly early that morning, having to face the task of moving in two sons to their new homes. It had worked out cheaper just to hire a van and get them both settled at the same time.

 Blaine and Rachel had met them at Edward Hall, the sole residential accommodation for NYADA freshmen, where both Kurt and Rachel would be living for their first year of college. While their dreams may have involved the four of them sharing an apartment together in their first year of college, they had to concede to their parents’ dislike of the prospect of the two couples sharing in such close quarters. Besides, as Rachel was quick to point out, imagine the contacts they could make, living amongst such like minded artists.

In contrast, Blaine had not been keen on the idea of halls, having a serious been there-done that attitude with his history at Dalton. Sure, living there, meeting the friends for life that he had, it had been brilliant. But he just wasn’t that person anymore. So, when Finn managed to get the _lone_ scholarship on top of his acceptance letter from NYU to study Musical Theatre and Performing Arts _,_ the decision had been a simple one, and they found a small apartment for the pair of them to share. Blaine had moved in earlier in the week with his aunt and uncle’s help.

Kurt steered Blaine around one of Rachel’s organised piles to sit on the bed next to Finn, “They’re still in New York. They’re going to come back this evening to take us all out for dinner with Rachel’s dads.”

“Oh my _god_ , Finn, what is _this_ doing here?” Rachel screamed, leaping backwards, holding the offending discovery at arm’s length between two fingers, clearly determined to touch it as little as possible.

“My lucky jockstrap! You found it!” Finn grinned, oblivious to his girlfriend’s horror.

“Seriously Rachel? You have sex with the boy, but you can’t deal with that?” Kurt deadpanned

At the same time, Blaine turned to Finn and asked curiously, “What makes it lucky?”

“Oh-kay, and this is where we change conversation topic!” Kurt said loudly, throwing a hand up to forestall any reply from his brother. “How was orientation?”

Blaine grinned widely, and Kurt’s heart swelled to see the happiness of the boy in his arms, “It was brilliant! Some of the extra classes look amazing! I’ve already decided on Musical Composition, but there are a couple of others that I think I might look at. When do you guys all have to register?”

“Tomorrow” Rachel grinned, “It’s going to be amazing!”

“Thursday.” Finn smiled nervously, “But I’ve got a meeting with my tutor tomorrow to go over some stuff first. He seemed really…enthusiastic…”

“Welcome to the world of the arts, Finn.” Kurt patted his brother’s arm in an attempt to dispel the mildly terrified look.

“Welcome to college.” Blaine grinned.

“Welcome to New York!” Rachel squealed, her face alight with happiness, “This is even better than winning Nationals! I can’t believe we’re finally here…”

00000

“Hey! You ready to go? We’re meeting Dad and Carole at their hotel in half an hour, and we’re gonna have to leave time in case we get lost on the subway. I’m a little worried about Finn…” Kurt slid into Blaine’s bedroom, taking in every inch. They had spent most of the afternoon in Finn’s room, so Kurt hadn’t had much of a chance to look around yet. “Oh! _Sorry!_ ” He whispered the last word, realising Blaine was on the phone.

“No…no, I _promise_ Uncle Peter! Seriously, I’ll be fine. Okay…Okay!” Blaine laughed, rolling his eyes at Kurt, “Yes, I know! I really do have to go now though, or we’ll be late…yeah, love you guys too…”

“They get back to Lima okay then?” Kurt asked as Blaine hung up.

“Yeah. But now I think Uncle Peter’s experiencing separation anxiety. I mean, I know I’m not the tallest guy in the world, but I think I can take care of myself!”

Kurt smiled, settling his arms loosely on Blaine’s shoulders as he kissed him fondly, “He’s as tall as Finn. To people like them, everyone else seems tiny.”

Blaine pouted, “I’m not tiny!” Kurt giggled at his boyfriend’s expression, and it was in that moment that it hit him, there, in the new apartment, with the sounds of traffic floating up from the streets below, the city lights splashed across Blaine’s face as dusk began to fall. Blaine cocked his head slightly, noticing the change in Kurt, “What is it?”

“Nothing…” Kurt breathed, a contented smile ghosting over his lips as he lost himself in Blaine’s eyes, “It’s just…we’re here… we got out… we made it…”

“Guys! Come on!” Rachel’s voice yelled from the living room.

Blaine just smiled, settling his hands on Kurt’s hips, his fingertips knowing every inch, every contour by heart. They had learnt each other in a beautiful cliché, a cliché that began with a perfect night after Senior Prom, and was followed by an incredible summer of heat and skin. Blaine hummed a few bars of a familiar tune, letting his voice flow gently over the ambient noise of traffic.

Kurt smiled ever so softly, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Blaine’s ear, his eyes bright and shining as he murmured in reply, “ _Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred moments so dear…”_

“You’re crying…” Blaine said, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Good tears.” Kurt clarified. “I’m just really happy to be here, that’s all.”

“Me too.” Blaine grinned, thumbing a stray tear from Kurt’s cheek before kissing him heatedly on the lips, “Let’s get going. This’ll probably be the last decent meal we eat until Thanksgiving…”

“Speak for yourself; _I’m_ not living with Finn.”

 Blaine pulled on his best puppy face, “But you love me, so you won’t let me starve, right?”

Kurt sighed dramatically, pulling Blaine by the hand out to the front door, “We’ll see!”

Blaine grinned, knowing Kurt would never deprive him of his cooking. Besides, if he wanted a retreat from a crazed Rachel every now and again, he would need Blaine’s help. And if worst came to the worst, Blaine could always consider withholding sex, but he wasn’t sure if he could be that much of a martyr…

He double-locked the door, checking it twice before jogging to catch up the other three.

Tonight, after the goodbye meal with Burt, Carole and the Berrys, Blaine would go back to see Kurt’s new room for the first time and help him unpack. And scope out this new roommate of his…

Tomorrow, Kurt would start his dream at NYADA, the dream he had already worked so hard to achieve.

Tomorrow, Blaine would meet with his piano and voice tutors at Juilliard, because somehow, amidst all the horror and pain of the last year, he had kept on the path to his dream too. His only regret was that his dad hadn’t been there during his auditions like Burt had been for Kurt; that his dad hadn’t felt the same joy that shined on Burt’s face when Blaine’s acceptance letter had arrived that April.

Tomorrow, instead, Blaine would call up Uncle Peter and Aunt Sarah, and tell them all about his first day, and then he would meet up with Kurt and find out all about his.

Tomorrow, he couldn’t be in Lima or Westerville, but that was because tomorrow could now be _so much more_ than That Day. The day he had dreaded all year, since he had realised what it would be.

Tomorrow, he would be happy. Tomorrow, he would cry. Tomorrow, he could say _I miss you_ , tomorrow he will say _I’ll never forget you_.

Tomorrow was _One Year_.

But tomorrow was also the start of his life.

**FIN  
**


End file.
